


A Spark Within

by the_irish_mayhem



Series: A Spark Within [7]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bending Lore, Canon Rewrite, Equalists (Avatar), Friendship, Gen, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24366022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_irish_mayhem/pseuds/the_irish_mayhem
Summary: They always said that the element opposite her natural one would be the hardest to master. She never expected that they’d be right.Or: an LOK AU where Katara and Zuko’s son teaches Korra how to firebend.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Korra/Asami Sato, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: A Spark Within [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759237
Comments: 47
Kudos: 238





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic spawned from me thinking about some of the internal lore inconsistencies of LOK, particularly that it was airbending that Korra had the hardest time mastering and not firebending. And of course, that led to me thinking “Well what if Tenzin’s role was taken by a firebending master?” which then tumbled into “Oh man and what if it was Katara and Zuko’s kid doing the teaching?” So uh. This lil universe popped out. 
> 
> Their son's name is pronounced key-oh-kahn-ee.

When Korra was seven years old, she bent fire for the first time. She does not remember how she did it, nor can she recall much aside from the sheer terror she felt watching the flames crawl up the antique wall hanging in her family’s home--it had been an heirloom, passed down for five generations and had survived the Hundred Year War hidden in an ice cave dug out by her great great grandmother.

There had been a voice in her head screaming at her to put it out. Even if it hadn’t been with firebending, she could’ve bent some snow into water and extinguished the flames quicker than a blink, but she was frozen. She remembers her panicked parents finding her, a flurry of motion and the village working together to put out her mistake.

She’d stared at that burnt tapestry for a long time, not answering her parents’ queries and concerns.

And then there’d been Kyokani. The youngest Fire Nation prince had been visiting the South Pole, conveniently not far from Korra’s village.

He’d come into the hut and sat down next to her, looking upon the burnt heirloom just as she did. “Hi Korra,” he’d said as he settled in, folding his long legs gracefully in front of him. “My name is Kyokani, but you can call me Kyo.”

The silence lingered between them for only a few moments before he began to speak.

“You know, not long after I started firebending, I burned my grandmother’s robes,” he begins. “I don’t think I was any older than you, and my control left a lot to be desired.” He chuckled. “I was so scared. Those robes had belonged to my dad’s mom Ursa, and they were one of the few things he had left of her. They’d been her mother’s, and her mother’s before her, going back who knows how many years. They were meant to be my sister’s when she came of age. All that history,” he snapped his fingers, “up in smoke because I’d been practicing the Dancing Dragon form without a teacher.

“My dad found me, and I was crying my eyes out as I tried to explain to him what had happened. When he finally figured it out, do you know what he did?” Kyokani asked. Korra hadn’t answered, but waited with baited breath. “He laughed.”

Her head snapped around to look at him.

He was grinning down at her in a way that made her feel safe. “It sounds pretty unbelievable, I know, but he did. He laughed, and then he said, ‘Kyo, those robes have survived two wars, multiple kidnapping attempts, and dozens of Agni Kais, and yet they couldn’t survive even one of your bending forms.’”

Kyo had laughed again, and Korra joined him, tentatively at first, but soon she was laughing right with him.

“Then what happened?” she asked.

“He told me to be careful about firebending indoors,” he said, “and then he told me to not worry about the robes so much--everyone makes mistakes, and things are just _things_. More importantly, he sat me down and showed me how to not make that mistake again.”

“How did you do it?” Korra asked eagerly, turning from the tapestry to face him.

He turned to match, and produced a candle from his pocket. “I’ll show you.” With a quick motion of his hand, he lit the candle. “It’s not as fancy as the full Dancing Dragon, but it is essential when learning how to control fire.”

He placed the candle on the floor between them, and then laid his hands on his knees and straightened his back. “Sit up nice and tall,” he instructed, and Korra immediately copied his posture. “Good,” he said with a smile.

Korra grinned back. “Now what?”

“Now,” he said, “we breathe. Watch.” Kyo had drawn in a slow, deliberate breath through his nose, and Korra’s eyes widened as the flame on the candle grew. She unconsciously drew away from the flame until Kyo let his breath out slowly through his mouth, and the flame shrank back down to normal size.

He did it one more time, and then gestured at her. “Now you try.”

“But I--” Korra’s gaze darted back over to the tapestry.

“It’s okay,” Kyo had told her. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m a firebending master. I can stop any fires you start.” He winked. 

Korra looked from him, back down to the small flame. Bending had always been so easy, and she didn’t want to admit that trying to bend something that was hard for her to control was _scary_.

But Kyo had seemed to be a mind reader. “I know it’s hard for you to feel like you can’t bend something. Your parents said all the other elements have come pretty easy to you.”

Korra nodded. “It doesn’t feel like water. It doesn’t feel like air or earth either.”

“Because it’s not,” Kyo said. “Fire is alive. It can bring warmth, but it can also burn. It can be dangerous, but only if you let it. Here,” he said, “just try breathing with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Like this.” Korra followed him, breathing at the same time he did. Her eyes watched the candle flame grow and shrink in time with their breath. It felt like a long time that they sat there, breathing together.

“Keep that up,” Kyo encouraged, and Korra hadn’t realized he’d stopped breathing with her, and the flame was keeping time with her own breath.

She gasped sharply, and the flame jumped larger, but Kyo swiftly put it out with another one of his gestures, a thin ribbon of smoke rising from where the flame had been.

“Good job,” he said, and she didn’t understand.

“But I messed up.”

He just smiled. “That’s okay, because for a while there, it was just you controlling that flame. If I hadn’t said anything, you would’ve been just fine.”

She looked down at the candle again, then back up at Kyo.

Kyo told her, “It’ll be very different than learning any of the other elements. The Avatar always has the most trouble learning the element opposite their natural one. Did you know that?”

She shook her head.

“It took the last Avatar a long time to master earthbending, because he was an Air Nomad. Since you are from the Water Tribe--”

“Learning fire will be harder,” Korra interrupted.

Kyo didn’t scold her impatience. “Yes, but the good news is that you’ve done it before in your past lives,” he said. “You’ve mastered the elements thousands of times, even if you don’t remember it. You will never be alone in your struggle, Korra.”

At that moment, Korra lunged over the extinguished candle and threw her small arms around him. For the first time, he seemed caught off guard, but it didn’t last long and he returned the embrace.

“Will you teach me firebending, Master Kyo?” she asked when she pulled back.

“‘Master Kyo,’” he repeated to himself, amused. “I don’t know, little one. Before we think about that, though,” he stood and offered a hand to help her up, “we should go and speak with your parents. They were worried when you wouldn’t talk to them.”

She only hesitated for a moment before she took his hand.

“You really think they won’t be mad?” she’d asked.

“I think they love you a lot more than a tapestry. Come on, Korra. They’re waiting for us.”

**Present Day**

**170 AG**

**Year of the Horse**

**White Lotus South Pole Compound**

It’s on a clear day in spring that Avatar Korra demonstrates her mastery of airbending to a group of White Lotus evaluators, as well as her waterbending master Katara and her airbending master Tenzin.

Even after all these years, it’s still hard for Katara to believe that Aang--sweet, gentle, wouldn’t-hurt-a-spiderfly Aang--reincarnated into Korra, who mercilessly blasts an opponent onto a roof with a tightly controlled twister of air. Even from where Katara stands at the edge of the training plaza with the evaluation group, she can see the young Avatar’s confident grin.

“She’s strong,” Katara says as the spar continues, and Korra races around her opponents on a compressed ball of air just like Aang used to. It makes a warm rush of fond nostalgia go through her.

“But she lacks restraint,” Tenzin replies from next to her. Toph and Aang’s youngest son and only remaining airbending master looks concerned, his brow creased and fingers stroking his bearded chin. 

Katara can see Tenzin’s worry for his pupil plain on his face--he’s always worn his emotions on his sleeve, ever since he was a child. Despite her impressive performance earlier with the Spinning Gates and her downright masterful command of her airbending during combat before them now, Korra’s aggressive combat style is almost certainly not quite what Tenzin had in mind for the next airbending master.

Grand Lotus Bhuti adds, “She certainly excels at the physical aspects of bending.” They all wince in tandem as one of Korra’s opponents goes through a wall. “But I would agree that her aggression is concerning.”

“Her meditation has been coming along,” Tenzin says, “but you know how she is.”

Korra’s final opponent is knocked out in another stunning show of pure bending power, and the young Avatar whoops in excitement. When she looks over at the gathered group, her cheer doesn’t seem dim in the face of the mood that’s descended over them.

“Why all the doom and gloom, people? We should be celebrating! Three elements down, one to go.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself as usual, Korra,” Tenzin warns. “We haven’t decided if you’ve passed your airbending test yet.”

Bhuti adds, “Ever since you were a little girl you’ve excelled at the physical side of bending but completely ignored the spiritual side. The Avatar must master both.”

Korra had the decency to look a little sheepish. “I haven’t ignored it, it just doesn’t come as easy to me.”

“Furthermore,” Bhuti continues, “how can we say you’re ready for firebending training when you show the same disregard for spiritual balance that led the Fire Nation into the Hundred Year War? Firebending is arguably the most aggressive bending style--a lack of discipline and control could lead a bender to catastrophe.”

Korra replies brightly, “That’s why I should start training with Kyokani immediately. He’s Mr. Discipline and Control.”

Bhuti turns and asks, “Do you believe she’s ready, Master Katara?”

Katara smiles. Whatever the misgivings White Lotus might have, she has faith in Korra, and she has faith in Kyokani. After all, she’d taught Korra herself--for all that she and Aang are different, they are the same in all the right ways. “Yes. If anyone can teach her what she needs to learn, it’s my son.”

Tenzin sighs, but Katara can tell he is proud, in spite of it all. “Very well, Korra. It’s time for you to begin your firebending training.”

“Yes!” she shouts, “Finally!” Disapproving looks from the attending White Lotus members cause her to temper her celebration. Katara can only hide her smile. “I mean--” Korra clears her throat, before straightening up. She bows her head and says earnestly, “Thank you all for believing in me.”

Then the Avatar bounces off, radiating excited energy.

A few lingering, concerned murmurs follow the White Lotus members as they disperse, but Katara remains in place and turns to Tenzin. “You did very well with her,” she says. “Despite what Bhuti thinks, she’s come a long way. When I finished training her, I thought there would be no way anyone would get her to sit through meditating.”

Tenzin huffs a laugh. “I’m still only getting that about seventy-five percent of the time.”

“Believe me, I would’ve considered even twenty-five percent a miracle.”

A beat passes as they look out across the White Lotus compound. Despite the cold, the sun shines warmly and harkens the coming of the short summer. It’s the only time of year she feels comfortable having Zuko join her at their home at the South Pole anymore. He had often teasingly complained about the chill of her native homeland in their youth, but given that he’s now nearly ninety, she knows the cold is more taxing than he ever lets on. Ember Island’s more temperate climate suits them both much better for the majority of the year, especially in their age, though she does loathe to be so far from their children.

“So when is Kyokani due to arrive?” Tenzin asks.

Speaking of her kids… “He should arrive in the next two days if his airship arrives on schedule.”

“And are you planning on staying after he arrives? It’s been some time since you’ve visited,” Tenzin says. “Pema and the kids have missed you.”

Katara chuckles. With her own grandchildren mostly grown, it is nice to be around young kids again, and Tenzin’s are particularly delightful. “For a little while, at least. Your mother always accuses me of making them too soft,” she says with a chuckle. “And with Kyo always so busy in Republic City, he hardly ever has time to visit his old mom and dad, so it’ll be good to see him.”

“I’m surprised he agreed to move here to train Korra. A firebender living at the South Pole seems counterintuitive.”

“His father managed just fine,” Katara says wryly, “though not without copious amounts of complaining.”

“Master Katara, Master Tenzin!” 

The pair turn toward the voice, and find a White Lotus messenger standing at attention.

“What is it, Daya?” Tenzin asks.

“An airship arrived from Republic City,” the messenger says. “Prince Kyokani of the Fire Nation would like to speak with both of you.”

“He’s early,” Katara says, a small flicker of worry going through her. Her son isn’t one to change his plans for no reason.

“Has he arrived, or shall we meet him at the airship depot?” Tenzin asks.

“He’s awaiting your presence in the main tea room.”

* * *

Despite his father’s penchant for making awful tea, Kyokani had always found great success with it. He had only been nine when his great uncle Iroh had passed away, and in spite of all that he’s forgotten about his great uncle, he still remembers his tea lessons with a startling clarity. 

_Your sisters and brother never cared for the art of making tea,_ Kyo remembers him saying. His tea shop in Ba Sing Se was quiet, closed down for the evening; it had just been the two of them with the warmth of a kettle of jasmine and ginseng tea in front of them that Kyo had made with Iroh’s help. _They have the same lack of patience that ailed your father_ , he’d said with a conspiratorial wink that made Kyo giggle. _But you,_ Iroh had said, _you have the patience of your mother. And patience is the key to great tea. Not only in the making, but in the enjoying._

The same jasmine and ginseng blend sits before him as he slowly and gently heats the kettle with his bending. He sits cross-legged at the short table, fingers hovering just above the surface of the metal, eyes half-lidded as he watches.

 _Firebending is not all about explosive movements,_ Iroh had said as he’d demonstrated the technique. _Sometimes, it is about slow, steady heat._

Before long, his tea is ready and he hears a knock, and the messenger he sent to deliver word of his arrival has returned with the people he sought.

“Kyokani,” his mother greets warmly. Somehow, every time he sees her, she looks shorter.

He rises and steps forward to envelop her in a hug. “Hi, Mom.” Her head doesn’t come past his chest. Honestly, he could’ve sworn she was at least a few inches taller last time he’d hugged her. When he pulls away, she pokes his cheeks with mittened hands.

“You shaved your beard.” She grins up at him. “It makes you look like your father when he was young. I like it.”

Kyo laughs. True, he does look much like his father, but his skin is entirely too dark to pass for a young Fire Lord Zuko. The lack of scar, too, would likely be a dead giveaway. “That’s what you always say when I’m clean shaven.” He turns to Tenzin. “It’s been too long, my friend.”

As they embrace, Tenzin replies, “It’s only been a few months since I was last in Republic City.”

When Kyo pulls back, he wears a grimace. “It feels like it’s been a _lot_ longer. Trust me.”

“The Equalists?” Tenzin guesses.

Kyo sighs. “Yes.” While Tenzin’s sabbatical from the Council was well-earned and necessary, there was only so much he and Kyo could accomplish together through writing letters. “The situation in Republic City has grown extremely volatile--”

A sharp shout interrupts him, “Master Kyo!” It’s Korra, who’s thrown open the door to the tea room and races over with a big grin on her face. She slams into him with an excited squeal.

Kyo grunts on impact. “Korra,” he says with a chuckle, his mood lightening and his troubles in Republic City fading to the back of his mind. “Let’s get a look at you.” He pulls back and holds her at arm’s length. “Agni, you’ve gotten so tall! You’re almost as big as me.”

The last time he’d seen her was just shy of her thirteenth birthday and, apparently, before her big growth spurt. When he’d first met her, she’d been a scared, chubby little child; then, she’d grown into a skinny strip of nothing who still seemed willing to throw down with anyone despite her size. She had reminded him a lot of himself when he’d been her age. Now though, she has thickened with muscle and stands very nearly eye to eye with him.

“I heard you got here early. I’ve mastered airbending since I last saw you!” Korra says in a rush, “So I’m ready to start firebending training today if you want, since you’re already here.”

Kyo’s face falls, his troubles rushing back like a wave. “Unfortunately, I’m only going to be able to stay until tomorrow. I came to bring Tenzin home, and to see you and my mom before heading back.”

Korra deflates. “But--but you’re supposed to stay and teach me firebending.”

“I know, but unfortunately, Republic City needs us more than you do right now, Korra.” 

“What’s going on in Republic City?”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Kyokani says, “but the short version is that violence by the Triple Threat Triad managed to ignite tensions between nonbenders and benders. A charismatic figure named Amon has rallied radical nonbenders to a group called the Equalists who have claimed responsibility for a series of escalating attacks on benders in the city.”

“Kyo…” Tenzin warns.

“What? She deserves to know.”

“Korra needs to focus on mastering the elements, not on Republic City’s troubles.”

“Well, hold on a second,” Korra counters, “Bhuti was just lecturing me--er, _reminding_ me that my job as the Avatar isn’t just bending, but maintaining balance. Why not start in Republic City? If you can’t stay here to teach me firebending, then I can come with you.”

Kyokani raises a brow. Agni, she really has grown up so much. “She makes a good point.”

Tenzin looks proud, but conflicted. “Yes, she does, but I’m not sure it’s wise for her to leave the South Pole,” Tenzin says. He makes meaningful eye contact with Katara and Kyokani, and Kyo understands what Tenzin is thinking. The Red Lotus is still out there. 

Many years ago, four members of the group attempted to kidnap the then-four year old Avatar. An intense investigation ensued led by Republic City police chief and Tenzin’s mother Toph Beifong. Three extremely talented benders had been apprehended and placed in special prisons with the help of Kyo’s mother and father, his uncle and erstwhile Southern Water Tribe Chief Sokka, Tenzin, and Korra’s father Tonraq; unfortunately the fourth had never been found, and the three benders captured remained tight-lipped, even after all these years.

The investigation had eventually been passed down to Tenzin’s older sister, Lin Beifong, when Toph had retired. The Republic City Police had kept the investigation into the Red Lotus open for the last thirteen years, but every member of the group they managed to track down and capture yielded no answers. As far as anyone knew, the Red Lotus was still out there, plotting against the Avatar, but aside from that? They were woefully short on information which bred a degree of panic when thinking about Korra’s safety.

Kyo suggests, “Perhaps having the Avatar in the city will help calm the situation.”

Tenzin hums before saying, “I doubt the anti-benders will be soothed by the presence of the greatest bender in history.”

“Mom,” Kyo says, turning to her, “what do you think?”

Katara’s answering smile is soft. “I think she’s ready. Like Korra said,” Katara says with a fond look in her direction, “it is the Avatar’s duty to maintain the balance--what good can she do by keeping her here?”

Kyo can tell Korra wants to celebrate (probably at high volume), but she manages to temper herself. It makes him smile. “Thank you, Master Katara,” she says with a small bow.

“Then it’s settled,” Kyo says. He gestures to the table, where his kettle awaits, still warm. “Tea to celebrate?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Point of clarification: Kyo was born in 124 AG. This fic takes place in 170 AG.

“You know, I remember you being a lot nicer the first time we tried this,” Korra says.

“I was,” Kyo replies, “because you were a scared little kid. If you’re determined to convince me you’re a grown up, then I’ll continue to treat you like one. Now, again.”

The morning sun is warm against Korra’s back in the main viewing pavilion in Air Temple Island’s picturesque dry landscape garden. She is seated cross-legged across from Kyokani with a row of three candles between them. Their small flames flicker steadily, in spite of Korra’s furious attempts to make them move with her breath.

Despite their arrival last night in Republic City, Korra hasn’t had the chance to leave Air Temple Island yet, and honestly, her tailbone hurts from sitting so long, and she’s growing frustrated by her lack of progress.

Okay. Growing and shrinking. She managed this when she was seven years old and was a master of zero elements. Now, she has three, and is much stronger. She can do it.

She breathes in.

(She’s heard there are more Satomobiles in Republic City than anywhere else in the world. What would they all look like at the same time?)

The flame remains unchanged.

She breathes out sharply, shifts her position a little, rocking back and forth on her seat bones to alleviate the soreness and numbness.

She tries breathing in one more time. _ Grow grow grow grow, come on _ \--

Spirits, her tailbone hurts so bad.

Korra sighs sharply. “Can’t I just go look around for one hour? Just let me and Naga go explore the city for one hour--”

“You can have as many hours as you want once you control your breathing and control the flame,” Kyo answers calmly, but firmly. How is he still sitting so straight? He has got to be feeling the whole butt-falling-asleep thing that she is, right?

Korra groans. “You know, I thought you were going to go a little easier on me than Tenzin.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Why?”

“I--I don’t know. I guess because we always had fun when you came around when I was younger. And isn’t all this breathing exercise stuff more of an airbender thing?”

“Quite the contrary,” Kyo says. “Firebending is all about your breathing. If you can’t control your breath, you’ll never control your firebending.” He smirks. “And there are plenty of fun things you can do with firebending, but we can’t get there until you get this. I’m sure Tenzin taught you breathing exercises during your airbending training. This is the same principle.”

“Fine,” she grouses, and looks back down at the flames. “Fire doesn’t feel the same as air though. I don’t really get how my breathing suddenly makes fire happen.” She breathes in deeply through her nose and out through her mouth. She can almost hear Tenzin coaching her along in her ear.

The candles remain unimpressed by her attempts.

“Fire is the element of power. It’s an overpowering force tempered by the unflinching will to accomplish what you want. I don’t think you’re short of will,” Kyo says with a chuckle. “In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a firebender already based on your bending style, and, you know, everything else about you.”

Korra looks up with a slight frown, but Kyo looks back with a soft smile. He continues, “But firebending isn’t just about power or your will. It’s the only element that has a will of its own--if you can’t control a fire, it can cause much destruction. Every time you’ve bent fire since I first met you, you’ve burned something on accident, or yourself.”

“Yeah, so you should teach me to bend without burning myself or innocent bystanders,” Korra says sharply.

“I  _ am _ ,” he replies, gesturing to the candles. “This is the first and most basic step of firebending.”

“But I’ve already mastered the other elements. I’m ready for more.”

“No, you aren’t ready, you’re impatient.”

Korra lets out another frustrated growl. “If I’d known you were going to make me sit here and meditate instead of actually teaching me bending, then maybe I should’ve just stayed in the South Pole.” She stands with a huff and turns to walk out.

“Korra,” Kyo calls out, but she doesn’t answer. “Korra, get back here!”

She walks out of the garden without looking back. She whistles sharply for Naga and the polar bear-dog bounds over, whining softly when she senses the sour mood Korra is in.

“Come on, girl. We’re going to the city.”

She mounts up and urges Naga towards the water. The polar bear-dog happily bounds in, sighing at the coolness when she’s submerged, and she begins the swim towards the shore.

Republic City looks unlike anything she’s ever seen. The Southern Water Tribe has certainly grown and rebuilt since the Hundred Year War, but it’s nothing like this. Tall mountains capped in snow rise beyond the cityscape. Tall buildings nearly scrape the sky across the whole horizon. Electric lights are visible even from across the water, more than Korra’s ever seen in her life. There’s several massive suspension bridges spanning the bay and inlets, filled with honking Satomobiles. The massive statue of Avatar Aang at the mouth of Yue Bay is both imposing and impressive. It’s incredible, teeming with life and curiosity. And Kyo didn’t want her to see it.

“I don’t get him,” Korra says to Naga. “I should be learning actual bending, not more meditation.” Kyo knows how frustrated she was with the slow pace of much of her airbending instruction. It’s not fair that as soon as she gets permission to start firebending, he insists that she keep doing the same boring stuff.

A niggling sense of regret for her outburst lingers at the back of her mind, but she pushes that aside in favor of indignation. She has plenty of control. She wouldn’t have been able to master the other elements without it!

“He just doesn’t get it. But I’ll show him.” She vows that when she returns, she’ll show him a firebending form. She won’t burn herself or anything else. He’ll see that she’s ready, and they can move on. He’ll forgive her and that will be that.

She shakes her head, “Whatever.” Naga climbs up onto the opposite shore and it’s easier to put her firebending troubles and her master out of her head when all the promise and excitement of Republic City lies before her. “Let’s go have some  _ fun _ .”

* * *

The fun lasts all of forty-five minutes until Korra comes upon a small gathering of people, listening to a man shout himself hoarse into a megaphone about the evils of benders. He stands on a small stage, an enlarged print of Amon behind him.

“Are you tired of living under the tyranny of benders?” he calls into the megaphone. “Then join the Equalists! For too long, the bending elite of this city have forced nonbenders to live as lower class citizens. Join Amon, and together, we will tear down the bending establishment!”

Korra brings Naga to a stop at the back of the gathered group. On the airship to the city, Tenzin and Kyo had provided her some reports and other reading on Amon and the Equalists. Some of it had been pretty dry (reading about employment numbers and median incomes of benders versus nonbenders is  _ not _ riveting reading) so she’d skipped those, but the reports of some of the attacks Equalists had claimed responsibility for were pretty awful, the worst being an attack on a bending academy that had resulted in two dozen injuries and two deaths.

With those stories fresh in her mind, Korra can’t help but interrupt. “How will hurting people make your lives better?” The small crowd turns to look at her.

The man on the stage gives her an arrogant once-over. “Let me guess, you’re a bender.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“And I bet you’d love to knock me off this platform with some waterbending, huh?”

“I’m seriously thinking about it. How can you follow someone who will hurt whoever he needs to in order to get what he wants?” There were children at that academy. How could they be so callous?

“Because benders like you will never listen unless we act boldly! This is what’s wrong with the city: benders like this girl will only use their power to oppress us, and stop us from using our right to protest!”

To Korra’s surprise, the crowd loudly agrees and begins to jeer at her.

“What?” she exclaims. “I’m not oppressing anyone. You’re… You’re oppressing yourselves!” She decides to steer Naga away before she does something rash.

“That didn’t even make sense!” he yells at her back as she rides away and out of earshot.

* * *

She’s lost her way, and decides to ask for directions when a stylized Satomobile comes rumbling down the road.

“You should get moving, young lady,” the old woman warns, rising from her seat. “It’s not safe here.”

Her bad mood from the Equalist in the park lifts when she realizes what’s going on--a gang of three gangsters are threatening an old man, and Korra grins. They have no idea who else is on the street with them today. She’ll show those Equalists that not only is bending the coolest thing in the world, she’s going to show them how good it can be for everyone. This shopkeeper won’t ever have to worry about anyone threatening him or his shop again.

The leader says to the frightened shop owner, “Give me the money, or else--”

“Or else, what, hoodlum?” Korra says, standing behind them with hands on her hips.

They turn and get one look at her before they start laughing. It only makes Korra’s excitement grow. They have literally no idea who she is, and what a massive mistake they’ve made. If there’s one thing she shouldn’t be, it’s underestimated.

“Since you’re obviously fresh off the boat, let me explain a couple things,” the leader says cockily. “You’re in Triple Threat Triad territory, and we’re about to put you in the hospital.”

He’s clearly a man who is used to his threats being taken seriously, so Korra smirks and says, “You’re the ones who are going to need a hospital.” Their threatening expressions turn into shock at her insolence. “And for your sake?” She punches her fist into her palm. “I hope there’s one nearby.”

“Who do you think you are?” the leader sneers.

“Why don’t you come and find out?” Korra taunts. Provoke them to attack first. Use their moves against them. A waterbending strategy as old as bending itself.

Their leader’s eye twitches.

Korra tenses. She’s got him.

He bends water out of a hidden shoulder holster, a basic blast aimed right at her face. Something she’d been able to deflect since she was a child. She catches the water and moves with the energy of his throw, turning and sending it flying back faster than he can react. She freezes it over his face, and he stumbles forward towards her. Without any fanfare, she roundhouse kicks him into the front bumper of their Satomobile, shattering the ice and knocking him out.

His cronies gape in disbelief. The one in green recovers first, growling and taking on an earthbending stance. Before he gets the chance to fire off any attacks at her, Korra drops into a squat and jabs upwards, bringing a small pillar of earth up under her opponent and hurling him into the air. He comes crashing down on several awnings before smashing into a stand in front of a shop.

(“Did she just earthbend?” one of the onlookers says.)

When he doesn’t immediately get up, the last member of the crew looks nervous. It nearly makes Korra laugh--he must have realized by now what a mistake they’ve made.

He makes a strained grunt as he bends two streams of flame at her. Even if she can’t bend it yet, she knows how to defend against it.

She blasts herself off the ground in a twister of air, dodging the blast. It careens underneath her, and is suffocated in the twister.

(“Can she airbend too?”)

(“Could she be…?”)

With a concentrated airbending slice, she knocks the firebender backwards, hurling him through a shop window with a very satisfying shatter.

“Got an idea about who I am  _ now _ , chumps?”

The squealing of tires makes Korra look backwards. There’s the other two Triad members, cowering inside. She stumbles backwards so as not to be hit, and the firebender makes a break for the car, crawling into it while it blazes past Korra.

“You’re not getting away,” she growls, and drops down into a solid stance to bend the earth up beneath the car. It jumps when her bending hits it and swerves out of control, flipping and crashing into another shop further up the block.

Korra grins.  _ Perfect _ . She hustles up to find the Triad members groaning and trying to get out of the car with little success.

Police sirens soon echo out, and Korra looks up to find a Republic City police airship hovering overhead.

“Cool!” she exclaims as she watches the officers navigate down on metal wires. “Metalbenders!”

After they land and approach, Korra confidently says, “I caught the bad guys for you, officers,” and gestures back to where the Triad members are just barely stumbling out of the ruined shop.

“Arrest them,” the lead officer says, and Korra feels satisfied. See, she  _ is _ ready for this whole Avatar thing. She’s already captured three criminals and--

“Arrest her, too.”

Wait. What?

“What do you mean I’m under arrest?” Korra asks sharply. “Those are the bad guys there. They were smashing up a shop!”

“From the looks of it,” he replies, “you smashed up a lot more than that.” Korra looks around at the destruction she’d inadvertently caused and realizes sheepishly that he’s right. Before she can say anything further on the matter, though, he shoots his maneuvering wires at her, and she dodges and grabs them.

“Wait, just let me explain--”

“You can explain yourself all you like down at headquarters.”

Well, resisting arrest wasn’t really what she’d had in mind for her day, but Korra knows how to roll with the punches. She dodges the metalbenders attempts to subdue her, and races away on Naga.

Admittedly, she should’ve known she wasn’t going to get away. As the airship carries her and Naga towards the center of town where the police are headquartered, she feels a sinking sensation in her stomach. There is no way she’ll be able to keep this from Kyo.

* * *

The interrogation room she’s escorted into immediately upon her arrival is dark and clean. A single light shines down on the table. They don’t remove her shackles. All in all, not Korra’s favorite situation she’s ever been in because she broke the rules.

It doesn’t take long for someone to join her. The woman is older, with wavy, graying hair and green eyes. Two scars on her right cheek give her a distinctly intimidating air. Her Republic City Police armor is polished to a high sheen, and though it looks well taken care of, it is clearly well-worn. This isn’t some rookie Korra is dealing with.

“Let’s see,” she begins, her voice deep and raspy, “Multiple counts of destruction of private and city property, not to mention evading arrest.” The woman slams the clipboard down on the table, making Korra jump a little in surprise. “You’re in a whole mess of trouble, young lady.”

“But there were some thugs threatening a helpless shopkeeper, and I had t--”

“Can it,” the officer interrupts. “You should’ve called the police and stayed out of the way.”

“But I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing,” Korra defends. “It’s my duty to help people.” She pauses before deciding to share, “See, I’m the Avatar.”

“Oh,” the officer says in an almost bored tone, “I’m well aware of who you are. Your Avatar title might impress some people, but not me.”

Ugh, okay. Maybe this lady isn’t the best one to talk to around here. Someone else might be willing to listen to her. “Alright, fine. Then I want to talk to whoever’s in charge.”

“You’re talking to her,” the woman says. Korra winces. Whoops.

She pulls out the chair opposite Korra and takes a seat. “I’m Chief Beifong.”

Korra brightens. “Wait. Beifong? Lin Beifong? You’re Aang and Toph’s daughter!”

“What of it?”

“Well, then why are you treating me like a criminal? Avatar Aang and your mother were married. They saved the world together! Like, a  _ bunch _ of times.”

“That’s all in the past,” Chief Beifong says.

“Your brother taught me airbending!”

“That’s got diddly-squat to do with the mess you’re in right now. You can’t just waltz in here and dole out vigilante justice like you own the place,” she says harshly. “You’ve got some nerve invoking my father’s name here when you so casually flout the laws he helped put in place.”

A burning retort is on the edge of Korra’s tongue when an officer interrupts through the door, “Chief. Councilmen Tenzin and Kyokani are here.”

Korra nearly groans. Bad enough Kyo has to find out she got arrested, and now she has to explain herself to Tenzin too.

Chief Beifong seems to deflate somewhat, a calmness in her tone that wasn’t there before when she says, “Let them in.” She stands at attention with her back to Korra as the door slides open and reveals two of Korra’s bending masters.

Neither of them look particularly happy.

“Sorry,” she says to Kyo, “I… got a bit sidetracked on my way back to Air Temple Island.” Then she turns to her airbending master. “Hi, Tenzin.”

Tenzin gives a very dad-like sigh before he looks at Lin. “Lin, how has your day been so far?”

Korra can’t see it, but she’s sure Lin is rolling her eyes at her brother. “Cut the garbage, Tenzin. Why is the Avatar in Republic City?” Her glance shifts to Kyo. “Shouldn’t you be at the South Pole training her?”

“There was a slight change of plan,” Kyo says. “We thought it best that Korra might come to learn firebending from me here.”

Lin sighs. “Brilliant.” She nods towards the door. “You two walk with me a moment.” Turning back to Korra, she says, “And you stay put.”

Korra jangles the shackles on her wrists. “No problem there, Chief.”

Both Tenzin and Lin look skyward and sigh at her reply. Kyo, strangely, doesn’t have much of a response. Not even a half a smile. That hurts.

Then they step outside and leave her alone with her thoughts.

* * *

“Your apprentice nearly demolished an entire city block,” Lin says, once they’ve gone a significant enough distance from the interrogation room.

Tenzin winces. “She has a few, er… control issues.”

“To say the least,” Lin says. “I ask again, what is she doing out of the South Pole? It’s not as though the Red Lotus has suddenly decided to take a break from Avatar hunting.”

Kyo replies, “The Avatar is supposed to maintain balance in the world. She can’t do that sequestered in the South Pole. She wants to begin taking her Avatar duties more seriously, and she wants to do that here.”

“Well, she’s off to a roaring start,” Lin says flatly.

“Besides,” Tenzin says, redirecting like a true mediator, “with the political situation in Republic City being what it is, Kyo couldn’t leave to train Korra. My sabbatical was difficult enough, and the city needs its full Council here to overcome the challenges the Equalists pose.”

Lin sighs. “They’ve been getting rowdier, and gaining more public support. They’re not seen as a radical fringe as much as they used to be. That girl seems like a lit match ready to fall into an already precarious power keg.”

“We’ll keep a closer eye on her,” Kyo says.

“How did she even end up in the city in the first place?” Tenzin asks. “I thought you were going to train with her all day today.”

“That was the plan, yes. Korra, however, decided she’d had enough of meditating and just stormed off.”

Tenzin pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I thought she was over that particular trait of hers.”

“Apparently not,” Kyo says. Maybe they shouldn’t be talking about this in front of Lin, who seems a hairsbreadth away from kicking Korra out of the country. He turns toward Lin. “Look, she’s a good kid, alright? Big heart, tends to act before she thinks. Give her another chance.”

“And I,” says Tenzin, “will take full responsibility for today’s regrettable events and cover all the damages. What good’s the Beifong name if I can’t throw some money around every now and again?”

“Don’t say it like  _ that _ ,” Kyo says. “It sounds like we’re buying her off.”

“It’s hard to buy me off when it’s my money too,” Lin says. Then she sighs and it’s her turn to pinch the bridge of her nose. “If you both think that Korra can help, then I will trust your judgement.”

Tenzin has to suppress a grin. “That sounded like a struggle for you to admit.”

She shoots her little brother a look. “Don’t press your luck.”

“You’ll come around to her,” Kyo says as they walk back to the interrogation room. “Just wait. She has a way of making people get attached.”

Lin huffs. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” She slides open the door, and Korra immediately straightens. “It’s your lucky day, Avatar Korra,” Lin says, and with a quick gesture of her hands, unsnaps the shackles. “But I better not hear another peep from you. I don’t give third chances.” She looks back at Tenzin and Kyo. “Get her out of my headquarters.”

“Let’s go, Korra,” says Kyo, and they lead the Avatar out of the building. In the lobby of Animal Control, Kyo and Tenzin round on her with crossed arms and what Kyo hopes is a look of a disappointed dad. He glances over at Tenzin and tries to copy his expression.

“Do you have anything to say in your defense, Korra?” Tenzin asks.

“I’m really, really sorry,” she says, and it’s one of the most genuine apologies he’s ever heard from her. She holds her elbow with one hand, her shoulders sagged and eyes downcast. “I really was just trying to help, and I didn’t realize that what I was doing was going to cause so much damage.” 

She takes another breath and looks up, meeting their eyes in turn. “I’m sorry I disappointed you both. I really was just trying to be a good Avatar. There’s that huge statue of Aang in the bay and it’s just--” she swallows deeply. “It’s a lot to live up to, but I’m going to try to be better. And,” she says, turning fully towards Kyo, “I’m sorry I stormed out of training. It was really immature and I felt bad about it as soon as I left. I know you’re just trying to help. I’m going to try to work on my patience. And if today has taught me anything, it’s that control is definitely… something I’m not great at yet. I know that I need to work on that before I can go any further with my firebending.”

Kyo feels his chest swell with pride. “That’s very mature of you to say. I forgive you, Korra.”

Tenzin sighs. “I forgive you as well. You are young, and have a long way to go, but we both believe in you.”

Korra breaks out into a smile. “Good, because I saw a lot of the city today and it was totally out of wack. Republic City needs you both, but it needs me too.”

Kyo grins back. “Got any ideas on how to fix it?”

A creaking metal door accompanies the sound of loud panting, interrupting their conversation. “Is this your polar bear-dog, miss?” The officer looks like he’s been on the receiving end of a lot of Naga’s affection.

The trio reclaim Naga and head back to Air Temple Island.

* * *

When they arrive home, Tenzin leaves Kyo and Korra by themselves at the edge of the island. The large statue of Avatar Aang is still visible in the inky blackness of nighttime, lit up by several floodlights. It’s there, looking upon the last Avatar’s visage, that Kyo suggests they hold a press conference.

“It’s already got to be spreading around the city like wildfire that the Avatar beat up a couple of Triple Threat goons,” he says. “A press conference means we control the narrative.” Korra looks at him strangely. “Hey, you seem to forget that I’m a prince of the Fire Nation. I know how public relations work.”

Korra smiles. “Okay, fine. How do we do that?”

“Let Tenzin and I handle the particulars. What I want you to focus on is your answers.”

“But I don't know the questions yet,” Korra says.

“Maybe not, but we can predict. For instance, someone is  _ going _ to ask if you intended to send a message to organized crime with your actions against those gangsters.”

“I--I mean. I guess? I just wanted them to stop harassing the shopkeeper.”

Kyo chuckles. “We’ll practice. You should also read a prepared statement revealing yourself as the Avatar.”

“How about, ‘Hello, my name is Korra and I’m your new Avatar?’”

“That works.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Short, sweet, and to the point.”

A brief silence descends. 

“Master Kyo?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

He smiles over at her. “It was time, Korra. Thank you for reminding us about the duties of the Avatar. It won’t be easy, but I know you’ll do great things.”

* * *

_ “Hello. My name is Korra. I’m your new Avatar.” _

_ A burst of questions goes up from the gathered journalists. _

_ “Does this mean you’ve moved to Republic City?” _

_ “The Avatar belongs to every nation,” she says. “But yes, I am here to stay.” _

_ “Were you trying to send a message to the Triads yesterday?” _

_ “I am here to continue my training and bring balance back to the city. The Triads have played their part in upending the balance Avatar Aang worked so hard to accomplish.” _

_ “Will you be fighting organized crime, the anti-bending revolution, or both?” _

_ “Like I said, I am here to continue working for the vision Avatar Aang had for this place. _

_ “Look, Avatar Aang intended for this city, this nation, to be the center of peace and balance in the world. I believe we can make his dream a reality. I look forward to serving you. Thank you, Republic City.” _

_ “Okay, that’s all the questions the Avatar will be taking--” _

The radio is switched off.

“Amon, how do you want to handle this?”

The leader of the Equalist movement is unreadable behind his mask, facing a map of the United Republic of Nations. “So, the Avatar has arrived early.” He turns. “It looks like we’ll have to accelerate our plans.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things start getting a bit more canon divergent than they have been up to this point.
> 
> Minor warning for some canon-typical violence, as well as a bit more intense use of bending for violence, and nonspecific threats against young women.

If there was any way Mako had ever predicted he would die, it was _not_ to be smashed to bits when his rich best friend’s flying machine crashed.

“Asami!” Bolin screams, “Please get us back on the ground!”

Mako will, however, refuse to scream if he is about to die. And Asami is _definitely_ flying like she doesn’t plan on landing this thing.

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Bolin?” she calls out over the wind rushing past them.

“ _ON THE GROUND!_ ”

The machine--a biplane, if he’s remembering correctly--is something new that Asami had been working on for well over a year now. It’s a small flyer that is more maneuverable and speedier than an airship. Apparently, militaries from every nation have been falling over themselves to give her money to develop it.

But if you ask Mako, this seems more like a surefire way to kill your own soldiers than accomplish anything else--especially when Asami pushes the steering yoke forward, and Mako nearly loses what little he has in his stomach as the craft’s nose dips dramatically towards the ground. The plane dives down, seemingly faster than before. This is officially worse than the barrel-rolls she’d put them through when they first got airborne.

“Asami!” Bolin screeches again.

They were supposed to come to the Sato estate to pick up their new jerseys, that was it. Somehow, Asami always manages to rope them into helping her test something. That’s what they get for being friends with an engineering genius whose lack of care about her personal safety is downright concerning.

“Relax!” she calls out.

Mako’s grip on his seat is white-knuckled, and if he could properly tell his body what to do aside from _hold on tight_ , his eyes would be squeezed shut. _Agni_ , he hates flying.

“Oh, thanks for that! I’ll try it!” Bolin snaps back at her.

Asami isn’t at all concerned. “I’ve got this, guys.” She levels out the craft way later than is truly comfortable, and decreases the throttle until the plane’s wheels are touching down on the grass runway strip. The plane shudders as it swiftly loses momentum, and Mako thinks he’s going to be sick again.

The engine eventually quiets when they roll to a stop near the hangar. Mako hadn’t noticed with all the noise, but Bolin is whispering quiet prayers to Agni, something he hadn’t heard him do since they were kids.

Mako flings off his helmet and unbuckles himself from the seat before tumbling out of the plane. He hears Bolin following suit but doesn’t look up until he has kissed the grass at least once.

“We’re alive,” Mako gasps, finally able to speak once more.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Asami says, and Mako looks up to find her standing over him with her helmet propped on her hip. “I told you I had it.”

“Never again, Asami,” says Bolin, who has literally bent himself down into the earth until just his head and neck are visible. “I am absolutely never flying in anything ever again. I am staying right here in the dirt for the rest of my life.”

“Oh, come on,” she says, “I know that it’s a lot to get used to at first--”

“Understatement,” Mako says, but Asami brushes that off.

“--but think about it. You guys are one of the first three people in the whole world to have flown in one of these! And now I know that I can carry two passengers safely.”

“Wait, that was in doubt?” Mako asks incredulously, almost rising to his feet but he still feels a little too shaky for that.

She waves her free hand at him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Not helping,” Mako says.

She chuckles. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. You guys actually did help me, and I appreciate it. Come on,” she says, and gestures toward the main house, “your jerseys are hanging in the foyer.”

“I don’t think I can move yet,” Bolin says, still buried.

Asami laughs again and drops cross-legged to the ground with her helmet in her lap. “Alright, I’ll stop being mean.” She leans forward on her helmet. “It’s been a minute since we got a chance to hang out. What’s new? Is Hasook still giving you guys a headache?”

Mako forgets feeling ill in favor of irritation at the mention of their team’s waterbender. “Same as always. Late to practice if he shows up at all. Not taking any of it seriously. Generally being a jerk.”

Hasook is someone they knew from back in their Triad days. He’d been more of an errand boy than muscle, but he’d been a gifted enough bender to warrant notice. He’d gotten out of the game years before Mako and Bolin had and scrabbled around in low-wage jobs before they’d tracked him down. When they first moved into the arena, they hadn’t been able to find a waterbender nor the funding to start up a team. Then Asami had crashed into their lives, and they had the funding, but no waterbender. Hasook had been the only one they knew and were on good enough terms with to ask.

“Any luck finding a replacement?”

Talking about pro-bending seems to be helping, and the vertigo from the crazy biplane ride is finally fading. “No,” Mako answers. “I think Hasook heard about us looking for someone else and that’s part of his whole ‘I hate everyone and you guys in particular’ routine he’s got going on.”

Asami wrinkles her nose. “It seems weird to me you guys can’t find anyone. You’re the Future Industries Fire Ferrets! One of the best teams in the league, plus you have a huge, flashy sponsor. People should be falling over themselves to play with you.”

“It’s not the amount of benders who want in,” Bolin chimes in, “it’s finding the right one.”

Mako nods. “Right. We have to find a good replacement or else we’ll be stuck with another Hasook and we’ve had enough of that.” He huffs a breath. “Not to mention it’s tough to find a master waterbender who is looking for a job in Republic City.”

“Makes sense,” Asami says softly. “Worse comes to worst, I’ll be your waterbender. Spitting on the other team might count as waterbending, right?”

Bolin and Mako both laugh at the image of the dignified Asami Sato stepping into a pro-bending arena and spitting at their opponents like an enraged hopping llama.

With a small twister of rock and dirt, Bolin bends himself up and out of the ground. “Hey,” Asami says, “he finally rejoins us.”

Bolin grunts and sits down next to Mako. “I’m not the one who flies around like I have a death wish.”

Asami cackles. “You sound like my dad.”

“Speaking of Hiroshi,” Mako says, “how is he?”

“Good,” Asami says. “Busier than usual. He’s been setting up a lot of stuff for putting the biplane into production. We’re still a ways off from mass producing them right now, but I’ve got the whole assembly line figured out. I gave him the blueprints last month.”

“That’s amazing,” Bolin says. “Congratulations, Asami.”

“Thanks,” she says with a dazzling smile on her face. “It’ll be my first real product rollout that my dad didn’t have a hand in. I’m excited. It’s a shame he isn’t home right now; he wants to have you guys over for dinner soon.”

“Also speaking of dinner,” Mako says, looking up at the sun, “we need to get our jerseys and get going if we want to eat before our match.”

“Of course we want to eat before our match!” Bolin exclaims.

Asami chuckles and stands. “Well, come on then. They won’t fetch themselves.”

* * *

“There is a madman running around our beloved city unchecked.”

Kyo would rather slam his head into the table than listen to Tarrlok say another word, but seeing as he’s an esteemed Councilmember, he figures that childish displays like that are probably out of the question.

The Council’s chamber is blessedly empty save for the Councilmembers themselves. Given that they are discussing the volatile Equalist topic, the session is closed to the public. Tarrlok’s voice carries well in the space, echoing off the marble and stone walls.

“We need a task force,” Tarrlok continues, “specifically dedicated to finding Amon and stamping out the Equalist movement once and for all.”

“Are you insane?” Kyo asks, and internally winces. So much for cutting back on the childish displays.

Tarrlok doesn’t seem cowed by Kyo’s outburst. “I’d say not. Are you not also eager to see the man brought to justice? What happens to the next bending academy they try to bomb?”

“A task force will only further inflame tensions between benders and nonbenders,” Tenzin says, in a much more reasonable tone than Kyo had struck; however, Kyo knows exactly how Tenzin tends to react to Tarrlok, and upon glancing over, Kyo can see the telltale signs of Tenzin’s temper starting to hit a breaking point.

Kyo takes a breath and thinks of how his oldest sister would speak--calmly, pointed, and with irrefutable strength. “Our nonbender outreach efforts have been slow to come together, but they’ve been well-received.”

When Tarrlok laughs derisively, Kyo supposes he doesn’t really have the tone of Fire Lord down. “Ah, of course,” Tarrlok says, “a half of a percent decrease in nonbender unemployment has healed all the wounds the Equalists have caused.”

“It’s a half a percent we did not have before,” Tenzin points out, steadfast. “The river of progress often runs slow, but it doesn’t make it a river not worth fording.”

“As always,” Tarrlok says, “I appreciate your unique wisdom, Tenzin, but I think this river of progress isn’t just slow, it’s stymied by a dam that is Amon. We need to remove that obstacle in order to keep moving forward.”

Kyo says, “He’s a figurehead whose image in the general nonbending public has improved in the last few months. If we find him and arrest him, he becomes a martyr for the cause.”

The Southern Water Tribe representative, an older man named Aruk who often sides with Tarrlok in Council matters, says, “Tarrlok’s suggestion has merit. I do sympathize with the plight of nonbenders, but Amon has committed serious crimes. That cannot be allowed to stand.”

Their youngest member is the Earth Kingdom representative, Weibao, a shrewd, quiet woman whose vote is often the deciding factor between the allied forces of Tenzin and Kyokani and the Northern and Southern Water Tribes.

She asks, “Who will lead this task force?”

Tarrlok stands and bows. “It would be my honor and privilege to accept such a duty.”

“This is just another one of your ploys to gain more power isn’t it,” Tenzin says, and _there it is_ , Kyo thinks. Never let it be forgotten that Tenzin is a Beifong as much as he is an Air Nomad.

“All I’m trying to do is help,” Tarrlok argues.

“The investigation into Amon should be left to the police,” Kyo says. “What business do you have starting up a task force to catch him?”

“You of all people should know how political power can get things done, _Fire Prince_ Kyokani,” Tarrlok says, pointed. “Besides, think back. Forty-two years ago, Republic City was threatened by another dangerous man--Yakone. Your mother,” he says to Kyo before turning to Tenzin, “and your father weren’t afraid to deal with him head-on.”

“This is a completely different situation,” Tenzin growls and rises to his feet, “and how dare you compare yourself to Fire Lady Katara and Avatar Aang.”

Oh boy. Kyo might be easily annoyed by Tarrlok, but Tenzin’s dislike of the man is on another level, and Kyokani can see this going sour quickly. He’d try to kick his friend under the table, but they are spaced too far apart.

However, in true political operator fashion, Tarrlok doesn’t try to escalate things. “Amon is not going to stop,” he says calmly. “He may have tempered his tactics for the sake of public opinion for now, but how long until another bonehead move from the bending triads forces more nonbenders under his influence? How long until his violent methods gain public favor? He’s dangerous, and the longer he’s left free, the longer he has to pull the city to his side.

“Eventually, he will come for all us benders. Our friends. Our families. Vote for this task force, and I will stop Amon before it’s too late.”

In the end, the vote is 3-2 in favor of the task force. The measure passes over the protest of Kyokani and Tenzin.

Their session wraps up a few tension-laden minutes later, and Kyo can see as they disperse from the chamber that Tenzin is about to go and give Tarrlok a tongue-lashing, but Kyo comes up next to him and discreetly grabs his elbow. “Not now,” he says.

Tenzin is the color of a tomato as Kyo leads him out a side door that eventually takes them out to a secluded balcony that looks towards the bay.

Once Kyo closes the door behind them, Tenzin lets off a series of air blasts that rattle the windows around them.

“That utter fool. That complete moron. That absolute _jagweed_.”

Kyo snorts. “You can’t call everyone you don’t like a jagweed.”

Tenzin says, “Watch me.”

The airbender makes another frustrated sound and begins to pace. “Can he not see how this is going to play out? Amon is just going to use this to fuel his recruitment. This is a nightmare. And did you notice how broad his powers are for this task force? There were barely any limitations! I know that Aruk votes with him on almost everything but this is just ridiculous! And I cannot believe Weibao wasn’t with us! She’s usually _smarter_ than this--”

Kyo lets Tenzin vent for another few minutes until the color of his face returns to normal.

“Yeah,” Kyokani says, “this definitely isn’t great, but that’s how the Council works sometimes. We’ll just have to focus on building up our inroads with the nonbending community and hope that this task force doesn’t completely destroy our momentum.”

Tenzin takes another deep breath, expelling the last of his anger with his exhale. “When did you become the cool-headed one?” he asks. “I always thought that was my job.”

Kyo chuckles. “Hey, if anyone was cool-headed in our group, it was Luna.” His cousin’s personality is anything but cool or calm, but she’s legendary for her ability to remain collected when it matters most. (She would’ve made an excellent politician if she’d followed in Uncle Sokka’s footsteps.)

He reaches out for Tenzin’s shoulder. “Let’s head back to Air Temple Island. I’m due for another lesson with Korra soon.”

“You go,” Tenzin says. “I have a meeting with Kythera from City Planning.”

Kyo’s brow furrows. “Kythera from City Planning?”

Tenzin sighs and looks heavenward. “She’s been on us for months about this sewer system survey.”

“Ah,” Kyo says, remembering, “right. Those pesky tunnels. ‘There’s so much construction, we keep losing track of where everything is!’”

Tenzin sighs again. “If I throw a few earthbenders at her, hopefully it’ll quiet her down.”

“Shouldn’t take too long, right?” Kyo asks as he stares out at the sun, lingering between late afternoon and evening.

He shrugs. “We’ll see, I suppose.”

Kyo starts to head back into the building. “I’ll tell Pema and the kids that you’ll be on your way soon.”

* * *

Kyokani loves the mellow intensity that comes with meditating in the late afternoon. The horizon starts to change color, the sun loses its blinding pallor and goes hazy and hot. As the old Fire Nation stories went, there were gates on the western horizon, where the sun would descend into the Spirit World and traverse their sky until it reached the eastern gates once more. Of course, Kyo is not simply Fire Nation, and he often wonders if his affinity for the later hour comes from his mother. The moon is in his blood as much as the sun.

His inner flame rises and falls with his breathing, a practice so familiar to him that it is more uncommon to notice its movement than to simply do it. He doesn’t require candles to focus himself anymore (hasn’t needed them since he was a child and his fire was just manifesting) and rather enjoys the peace and quiet of awareness of his element.

Korra is seated beside him in her own silent meditation. He’s quite proud of how she’s doing--her breathing is rhythmic and slow, focused and purposeful ever since they began this session when he arrived back at the island after the Council meeting. He can feel the small flames in front of her, three wax candles that flicker, but don’t move in time with her breathing, at least--

Wait.

He opens an eye.

She’s doing it.

Larger. Smaller. Measured, slow, and controlled, the flame on the candle responds to her breathing.

Kyo smiles. Agni, she’s a fast learner, it--

A deafening shriek makes Kyo leap to his feet, poised to bend at the threat before he realizes the shriek came from Korra.

“Did you see that?” Korra exclaims excitedly, seemingly unaware that her outburst nearly gave Kyo a heart attack.

“I did it!” she says without waiting for his answer. He’s pleased to note that the candles aren’t flaring with her fervor--her control is improving, but she’s lost her breathing. “I moved the flames! I could feel it,” she says, looking back at the candles. “It was like a little heartbeat.”

That makes him smile. “More than any other element, fire is alive. You’re feeling its will.”

Her eyes are positively sparkling when she looks back up at Kyo. “I felt it,” she says in wonderment. She leaps to her feet. “Wait a second.”

He knows what she’s going to do precisely as she’s about to do it and becomes keenly aware that they are in a very flammable wooden pavilion. “Korra, hold on--”

Her first punch conjures a wild ribbon of flame, thick and nearly white with heat. It sears through the air in a chaotic stream, crackling through the lingering humidity of the day and reaching for the dry tinder that is the pavilion.

Korra makes a pained sound, hissed through gritted teeth, and he knows she’s burned herself. He jumps in front of her fire stream, rotating his hands in a swift circle to extinguish the haphazard flames.

He sighs as the white flames die, and Korra hunches over her burned knuckles. “Tui and _La_ , that hurts,” she growls.

“Let me see,” he says, and holds a hand out expectantly. “You were doing well,” he observes, careful to sound neutral, as she places her hand in his.

Not the worst burns he’d ever seen on a beginner, but certainly indicative of someone not yet ready to move past the control stage. Some young firebenders naturally have the control to not burn themselves and simply have to learn to bend their chi more effectively to create flame. Looks like Korra is the opposite--she has no problem moving her chi, but her lack of control is where she needs work. Perhaps, though, it is time to add in some cold katas into her training regimen.

“Is this the part where you give me a lecture on patience?” she asks, but there’s no bite in her tone.

“Do you have some water to heal yourself?” he asks, ignoring her question.

She nods toward the pavilion steps where she’d left her waterskins; he walks over with her to the doorway.

She bends the water around her injured hand, the water glowing blue, and in a matter of moments, her burns are healed. Korra exhales loudly once the water is back inside the flask and turns to Kyo.

She bows and says, “I’m sorry I lost my patience. I just got really excited when I could feel the fire. It was like I was feeling any of the other elements, so I just thought…” She shakes her head. “I got ahead of myself again.”

“You did,” Kyo agrees. “It’s not uncommon for young firebenders to burn themselves when they are first learning their control.”

“Did you?”

“No,” he says, “but that didn’t mean I didn’t burn other things. Do you remember what I said to you that day when we first met?”

Korra nods. “That you accidentally burned your grandmother’s robes? Yeah, I remember.”

“Not that,” he says, and indicates that she should sit before the candles once more. “Fire can be dangerous, but only if you let it. Water will not leap from the shore and drag you in. The earth will not rise up and pull you down. Air will not leave your lungs to suffocate you. But fire?” Kyo takes a breath and conjures a flame in his palm.

Blue. _The prodigal fire_ , he remembers one of his tutors saying, _two generations in a row. What fortune._ Heat licks at his palm but does not sink deeper. “If you have no discipline yourself, how can you expect the fire to bow to you?” He contemplates the fire in his hand, and lets it go loose as he turns his hand over. He lets it crawl over the backs of his fingers like it’s made of liquid.

Korra’s eyes are fixed on his fire, an expression of fascination on her face, and a deep longing. 

“But how?” she asks quietly before meeting his eyes. “I know what I’m supposed to do--control, discipline, patience, all that. But how am I supposed to…” she trails off with a slight grimace. “I’ve been working on them, but I still can’t firebend. How do…”

He can sense her question even if she can’t find the words. “There’s no way of knowing when you’ve achieved it, Korra, just as there’s no easy method for honing your self-discipline. You can practice bending forms until you’re physically perfect. It might take a few months,” he says, and turns his hand back over so the flame rolls back into his palm, “but it’s measurable. Specific. But mastering yourself? Much harder to precisely measure when you’ve done that.” He lets the flame peter out. “You are improving,” he says, and then grins wryly, “even if it’s not as fast as you’re used to.”

“Patience, right?” Her tone is tired, but dryly humorous.

“See? You are learning,” Kyo chuckles. He stands, and holds a hand out to Korra so he can help pull her to her feet.

“I think that’s enough for today. You did well.”

She looks surprised. “But I burned myself.”

“Two ill-advised minutes don’t ruin three hours of productive training,” he says. 

“So I’m… free? I can go do whatever I want?” she asks, a bit breathless with anticipation.

“Don’t make yourself sound like a prisoner,” he says with a chuckle.

Korra’s smile is growing. “Sorry, sorry. I just… I’m used to the South Pole.” She turns toward where Republic City lies on the other side of the bay.

He can read the longing plainly on her face, and it warms him to see her like this. Uncle Aang always wore his heart on his sleeve, too.

“Go,” he says, “have fun. Go catch a pro-bending match, or whatever it is you young people do these days. Just don’t--” he raises a finger in warning, “--get arrested. Lin won’t be so nice the second time around.”

“She was being _nice_ the first time?”

Kyo laughs before he flaps a hand at her. “Just go before I change my mind and have you meditate until the sun goes down.”

Korra doesn’t need to be told twice, and is off like a shot. Running toward the shore, she whistles for Naga, and the polar bear-dog lopes up next to her. “Thanks, Kyo!”

“Don’t stay out too late!” he shouts belatedly after her as Naga makes a flying leap into the bay and the pair swim for the city.

* * *

_Those girls better not get into any trouble,_ Shirong thinks as he drives his ostrich-horse buggy back towards his home in the Shonamikyu district. His two daughters are certainly old enough to be out and about on their own, especially at something as safe as a pro-bending match, but a father worries. Republic City isn’t always the best place for a pair of young ladies at night, which had been why he’d insisted on driving them. It isn’t a fancy Satomobile like the girls want, but since their mother passed, there isn’t much he can do to afford one. It’s everything he can do to keep the eatery open and Ahn and Shiba in school.

He’d saved every spare Yuan he could to buy the tickets for the pro-bending match for Shiba’s fifteenth birthday. According to her older sister, she’s apparently in love with the earthbender from the Future Industries team. The look on her face when she’d realized that she would get to see him in person at the arena was worth the hungry nights he’d endured to afford the tickets in the first place. The thought of his youngest marrying some hotshot pro-bender does give Shirong a bit of a chuckle as he unhitches the ostrich-horse and leads her into her stable.

With a departing pat to her neck and setting a bucket of seed out for her, he returns to the front of his shop and stops cold when he sees the unmistakable hood ornament of a custom-built Satomobile that only means one thing-- _the Monsoons_.

Thank the ancestors that his daughters are not home.

He’s lucky enough that the bending triads usually don’t come to this part of their district--there’s usually more money to be made elsewhere, on the richer streets further north. Ancestors help him, just let them leave _quickly_ and without smashing anything.

The rumble of the engine is muted, and the headlights cut out before the doors open and two men step out. They both wear light gray coats and nice-looking hats; one is clean shaven, and the other has a thin mustache, but nothing else is distinctive that Shirong can see. Neither are particularly physically imposing, but size means nothing to a bender. What matters are the water flasks strapped in holsters at their sides.

Shirong had served in the Earth Kingdom military long ago, did two years of service on the Outer Wall in Ba Sing Se before he’d met his wife, and he never thought he’d wish for a sword in his hand ever again. But now, as the two men lumber over to him like nightwraiths, he wishes for any kind of weapon he could put his hands on.

“You’re Shirong,” Mustache says. Not a question. They know who he is, and, he realizes with a sinking feeling in his gut, that means they want something from him.

“Your restaurant is one of the few in this area not offering proper tribute to your triad,” the other says. “We’re here to rectify that, and collect some backpay.”

This is what he’d feared. _Ancestors be with me._ “I’m afraid that I do not have much extra to offer tribute to anyone.”

Mustache shrugs. “We figured. The bosses have been watching your place for a while.”

Shirong thinks he’s going to be sick.

Clean-Shaven chuckles. “Doesn’t even own a shit Cabbage Car, much less have money for tribute. But what he does have are two _very_ lovely daughters.”

“No,” is all Shirong can say.

“The Red Monsoons could make good use of them,” Mustache says. He says other things, horrible, demeaning things, but Shirong barely hears any of it.

They will not touch his children. He will fight Koh the Face-Stealer barehanded before he let anyone touch his daughters.

“… But pay your share of tribute, and your girls are yours and yours alone,” Mustache says. “We won’t lay a finger on ‘em. What were their names again?”

Clean-Shaven says, “Ahn and Shiba, I believe.”

“Ah, of course,” Mustache says with a wicked smile. “How could I have forgotten? I wanted to remember so I could save Shiba for myself--”

Shirong throws himself at the men. There is no finesse in his strikes, he just wants them to _hurt_ \--

The breath is stolen from his lungs when he’s slammed into the ground, ice burning at his wrists and ankles.

“A fighter!” Mustache laughs. “Can you believe it, Kaja?”

Clean-Shaven laughs right along with him. “What kind of idiot would strike a Red Monsoon bender?”

The pair of them bend more water out of their flasks, and then the water rushes onto his face. Shirong screams against the water, thrashes, but is restrained by the ice.

He can’t breathe.

The water disappears for a moment, and he gasps, his body involuntarily taking in as much air as possible, but then it’s back, drowning, pushing into his throat.

There is no room for organized thought as he drowns on dry land, held down by sadistic men who would threaten his children, but he’s overcome by the thought that he will die.

_I will die tonight, here, in front of my home._

There’s a moment of mad clarity when the next thought Shirong has as the water pours over his face is _Please let my girls find a good ride home._

And then, without warning, the water stops. Shirong can hardly hear anything over the ringing in his ears and the frantic heaving of his body as he coughs up water, but he’s at least somewhat aware of a person at his side, pulling him into a seated position and rubbing his back. The person sounds female, and Shirong wonders if he’s died after all and his wife is next to him.

But the chill of the night seeping through his soaked clothing and the swelling of his face quickly brings him back to reality--he is not dead, and someone has saved his life.

He opens his eyes and looks to find a pair of huge, bright green eyes on a sleek black body sitting next to him. He nearly leaps backwards, thinking that this must be some lost spirit, but only manages a pathetic dive away, still seated as he is.

“Hey, wait! It’s okay, I’m a person,” she says, and removes what he now realizes are goggles and a hood. She can hardly be much older than Ahn, and her hair is buzzed close to her scalp. On the right side of her mouth is a horrific burn scar that spans her cheek and goes down her chin and jaw; it makes her lips droop on that side. Her green eyes speak kindness and calm. “I know the getup is a little freaky,” she says with a lopsided smile, “but we’re here to help.”

_We?_

He looks past her. The two Monsoons are on their knees, bound and slumped as though they are puppets whose strings have been cut. Behind them are three figures, two dressed like his scarred acquaintance next to him. The other has on a dark cloak and--

Shirong gasps. Anyone who has even glanced at a newspaper in the last six months knows that mask.

“Amon,” he whispers.

The woman next to him looks backwards, as though she doesn’t realize who is behind her. “Yeah, that’s Amon. Next to him are Teruko and Min.” She turns back to face him, still smiling. “I’m Rei. What’s your name?”

He’s too shocked to do anything but tell the truth. “Sh-Shi-Shirong,” he manages. He hadn’t realized his teeth were chattering.

“Shirong.” This comes from Amon. His voice is a deep baritone, smooth like a rake over sand. “Are you alright?” He steps out from behind the Monsoons, and walks with a casualness that belies the fear coursing through Shirong’s veins to where he’s still on the ground.

“Y-you. You’re… You’re Equalists,” Shirong says.

Amon nods, and comes to kneel next to Rei. “Here,” he says as he reaches for the clasp of his cloak. “You must be cold.” Without waiting for assent, Amon pulls the thick garment off his own shoulders and around Shirong. Against his instincts, Shirong relaxes into it almost immediately. It’s warm and clearly well-made, combed mountain goat-gorrilla wool if his textile knowledge is still intact.

His tremors begin to subside.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Amon says. “I will make sure it will not ever happen again.”

Shirong looks between the masked face of Amon and then to Rei. She looks at Amon with a savage kind of satisfaction on her face, a bone deep belief and conviction for what will happen next.

Impulsively, Shirong blurts, “Please don’t kill them!”

Amon cocks his head. The blankness of the mask makes Shirong shiver again, but not with the cold. The explosion at the bending academy is no longer fresh in the minds of many Republic City residents, but the Hinata family from three doors down has a daughter who goes there. Luckily, she was unhurt by the blast, but her favorite master was one of the casualties.

Shirong can’t have that on his conscience.

“I will not,” he says, simple and easy. He rises, movements so precise and smooth that Shirong wonders again about his rescuers being spirit-touched. “I will take their bending away. For good.”

Shirong’s eyes widen. “But that’s--”

“Impossible?” Rei finishes for him. “Something only the Avatar can do?” She spits the name like poison. She softens a moment later as she looks upon Amon. “Just watch.”

The Equalist leader steps back towards the fallen waterbenders.

Silent until now, the Mustache makes a choked sound as he protests, “You can’t stop us.”

“Watch me,” Amon murmurs.

It takes no more than five seconds. Two breaths. Three heartbeats. Amon places his hands on the waterbender’s forehead and chest. Then the bender collapses.

Amon steps over to repeat his actions on Clean-Shaven, who looks significantly less cocky than his companion.

“Please let me go, I won’t--” Hands to forehead and chest. The other bender collapses as well before he can finish his sentence.

Amon steps back. “Unbind them,” he says.

“No,” Shirong says, tensing to stand and move away, “You can’t--”

Rei places a calming hand on his arm. “Just wait. Watch.”

The Equalists all step away from the benders, falling back around Shirong in a loose circle.

Mustache rises to his feet, weak like a newborn giraffe-kitten but angrier than a nest of bunch hornets.

He reaches for the water flask at his side, and Shirong tenses.

Nothing happens.

The bender’s eyes go wide. He reaches for the leftover water across the road, the flowing motions of waterbending going sharp and jerky with panic

“What--” He begins to back away in horror. “What did you do to me?”

The other Monsoon bender stumbles to his feet and finds himself similarly without his bending. “This is impossible,” he whispers.

“Not impossible,” Amon says. Shirong can hardly believe what he’s seeing. Amon is a nonbender. The most infamous nonbender in Republic City. How does he have the power to take someone’s bending?

_Spirits-touched._

_He must be._

“Tell your friends in every bending triad,” Amon continues, “that we are no longer subject to living under your bootheels. Tell them what I will personally visit upon them should they continue terrorizing nonbenders for their own selfish means. And tell them--” his voice drops an octave, “--that I cannot be stopped.”

The benders stare in wide-eyed terror. Without their bending, they are powerless against them. Shirong, wet, panting, still sitting on the ground, realizes with a start that he feels powerful surrounded by these Equalists.

“That’s your cue to _run_ ,” Amon growls, and the Monsoons don’t waste another second. The tires on their Satomobile squeal as they race down the road and out of sight.

“Rei,” Amon says over his shoulder cordially, as though he hadn’t just issued a threat to one of the most dangerous triads the city has to offer, “will you ensure that Shirong is safe for the evening?”

She bows. “Of course.” She stands and helps Shirong to his feet. She looks at the eatery. “Do you live above the shop?”

He nods.

“Come, then,” she replies, “Let’s get you inside.”

Shirong doesn’t think twice, and leads Rei up the back entrance to his family’s home, leaving Amon and the two others outside. 

It’s a modest apartment, but far better than anything he’d had as a child. Two bedrooms, and a kitchen decent enough to feed them all. There’s an old lounge chair from his wife’s dowry in the main room that he collapses on as soon as he reaches it.

“Do you have a telephone?” Rei asks.

The question brings him up short. “I--no. Do you need to call someone? There’s a public phone up the road if you need,” he answers.

Rei smiles at him. His eyes are drawn again to her scar. “It’s not for me.” He notices for the first time the satchel slung around her shoulders, and she reaches back into it and pulls out a small slip of parchment. “If any benders hassle you again, or even if you see some that make you nervous, this is how you contact us.”

Shirong takes the parchment and stares down at the numbers blankly for a few moments before saying, “Thank you. I appreciate the offer, and words cannot express my gratitude that you all saved me tonight, but…” _I will most likely be calling the police._

Rei’s smile fades into something more melancholy, seeming to understand what he hadn’t said. “I get it. We’re the big, bad Equalists that every bender in the city would like to see strung up.” She wrinkles her nose. “But sometimes us nonbenders have to take things into our own hands. The police? All those elite metalbending units? What are they even for if they can’t stop the triads and protect us?”

Shirong has no answer for her, but she doesn’t seem to need one.

“This scar I have,” Rei continues, gesturing to her face, “I got it from a firebender.”

“Agni Kais?” Shirong guesses.

She nods. “But it was from a firebender who had already been arrested and sent to prison. _Twice_.

“The only way to stop these people is to make sure they can’t bend anymore,” she says, “and the only person willing to do what it takes to protect us is Amon.”

“What about the Avatar?” Shirong asks. As a child, he’d been fed a steady diet of grand tales about the Avatar, from Aang to Kyoshi. How they heroically saved the world time and time again from dastardly foes. Those sentiments are not so easily forgotten.

Apparently, it is the wrong thing to say. Rei nearly snarls, “The Avatar is a child who hid away in the South Pole while people around the world _suffered_.”

Shirong doesn’t immediately answer, but in this light, in his apartment, he cannot help but see how young Rei is. So much fire, so much anger, for one so young. She should be going to school, attending pro-bending matches to giggle about cute benders, working in a family eatery like Ahn. Instead, she is here.

“Are you not also a child?” he asks softly.

That brings her up short. She swallows heavily and sniffles before she answers, tone as hard as she can make it, “You grow up fast when you’ve got a ruined face and no family.”

Her answer is also a conclusion, an implicit order to stop asking, and Shirong will listen. For now, at least.

Rei seems to remember her purpose here, and shakes herself out of her stupor. “Can I make you some tea? I will stay as long as you need me to.”

“Do you not need to return to your companions?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “They will have moved on by now. There are more people for them to save yet this evening.”

“And where will you go? Do you have a place to sleep?”

She nods quickly. “I do.”

Shirong lets the silence simmer for a few moments before he says, “I have a few hours before I have to pick up my daughters. Would you care for something to eat?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m supposed to be the one making sure you’re alright.”

Shirong waves a hand. “You’ll forgive a father for attempting to be hospitable. You don’t look much older than my Ahn.

“How about this,” he continues before Rei can make any further protestations about her age, “I will make some tea. You can partake or pass, but I’d like you to stay until the pot is finished.”

She swallows again. “Okay.”

* * *

Amon looks up at the dimly lit window. Rei is young and promising--introducing a civilian to the Revelation and gaining their trust and affection will be a good test for her.

“You sure she’s ready?” Teruko asks.

“Yes,” Amon answers. He smiles underneath his mask. With their intelligence into the movements of the bending triads, they will be able to successfully intercept at least a dozen more gangsters by the time the sun rises. At least a dozen more witnesses for both sides, triad and civilian. News of the Revelation will spread like wildfire, exactly how he’d planned.

“Brothers.” He turns to fully face Min and Teruko. “It’s time to bring the Revelation to the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shirong and Rei will return. I think one of the biggest weaknesses of the LOK's first book is that the Equalist movement is stuck between being two- and three-dimensional. There are a lot of awesome things, and then a lot of things that don't make sense or could've benefitted from more time/development. Shirong and Rei (and Min and Teruko, but to a lesser extent) are meant to flesh out the body of the Equalist movement, and those who support it.
> 
> I'm adding a bit more to Asami's character, but she will mostly remain the same. Mako and Bolin's arcs will be a bit different as well as the story progresses, particularly in regards to their personal history/ancestry.


	4. Chapter 4

The pro-bending arena is absolutely majestic. Korra has never seen anything like it. The towering architectural achievement stands on enormous stilts above the water of Yue Bay with massive floodlights illuminating the whole structure. It’s something you couldn’t see anywhere but Republic City--the building is a massive rectangle, with soaring towers on each corner with arched windows and rounded cupolas. The entire thing is capped off with a massive plate glass dome that must’ve cost an absolute fortune to make and install. It’s like a beacon, bright, beautiful, and aggressively inviting.

Korra sends Naga back to Air Temple Island when they come ashore. The polar bear-dog whines and gives Korra her best begging eyes. “Sorry, girl,” she murmurs. “I don’t think they’re going to let you in; and I really don’t want you ending up with animal control again if they find you wandering.”

Naga huffs, as if Korra is making an excuse.

“I’m sorry!” she says again. “I promise I’ll make it up to you somehow. Okay?”

Still not entirely satisfied, but willing to listen, Naga chuffs and licks the entire side of Korra’s face before diving back into the water.

Korra is still wiping away polar bear-dog drool as she follows the crowd towards the main entrance. She falls in line behind two girls around her age who seem to be positively vibrating with excitement. They aren’t the only ones--Korra has wanted to see a pro-bending match in person as long as she can remember. Her inner five year old is screaming with joy.

At least she is until Korra arrives at the ticket window and realizes she has no money.

“Ticket please.” The old woman manning the booth looks and sounds like she’s already used up her patience quota for the evening.

“Oh. Sorry,” Korra says, “I just, um… I don’t have a ticket.”

The woman sighs and points a long-nailed finger to her left. “This is an entrance booth. Ticket sales are that way.” She leans to look over Korra’s shoulder. “Next!”

“Wait,” Korra says, “I just--”

The woman’s eyes are like stone. “No ticket,” she says, “no entry. You’re holding up my line.”

_ But I’m the Avatar _ is on the tip of her tongue, but she bites it back. “Okay, sorry,” she says, and steps out of line.

She’s so  _ close _ .

Kyo’s words about staying out of trouble echo in her mind. “Couldn’t have given me just a few Yuans, huh?” she mumbles as she wanders toward the edge of the pier.

Her eyes look out across the water--Naga must already be back at the Island by now. She looks to her right, where the side of the arena directly abuts the bay.

Then she catches a look at some of those big arched windows above the water--they’re open.

She looks back out over the bay, only a small niggle of doubt lingering in the back of her mind before she looks back up to the open windows.

Korra grins.

She said she would stay out of trouble--but is it  _ really _ getting into trouble if she isn’t caught?

She takes a quick glance around. With the windows being out of sight of the crush of people heading for the main doors, no one will notice her. Korra climbs over the railing and drops into the bay without any onlookers any the wiser.

Korra swims like Water Tribe, cutting through the water with brutal efficiency and is aided in her speed by her bending. Once she’s beneath an open window, she takes another glance up at the pier to ensure she isn’t being watched, and then drops beneath the waves. She sinks, bending herself deeper and deeper before she raises her hands over herself, crossed at the wrists. With a swift thrust of her arms downwards, she creates a spiral of water that launches her up and out of the bay and through the window. 

She lands in an unremarkable hall, but she can feel the dampened roar of the gathered crowd rumbling through her chest. Korra’s excitement from earlier increases tenfold. A quick burst of air and waterbending flings the residual water from her clothing, and she sets off towards where she thinks the source of the cheers of the audience are coming from.

Her luck is, frankly, abysmal. Is this a service hallway or something? The only doors she’s found so far have led to empty guest rooms and janitorial and storage closets. When she stumbles upon a bending gymnasium with discs of earth and barrels of water along the walls, she belatedly realizes where she must’ve ended up--the athletes-only wing of the arena where pro-benders from outside the city often stay before exhibition matches, and the local Republic City league teams train.

If she’s caught here, she’s getting in trouble for sure because there is no way they allow spectators back here--

“Hey!” Korra nearly leaps out of her skin at the cry, and turns to find an older man with skin like hers and icy gray hair walking towards her with something akin to murder in his eyes. “What are you doing in my gym?”

_ Shit _ .

“Oh,” Korra says, thinking fast, “I was just looking for a bathroom and I got lost.”

He crosses well-muscled arms in front of his chest. “Ah, the old ‘I had to pee’ excuse. I’m tired of you kids sneakin’ in without payin’. I’m taking you to security.”

Panic grips her stomach. “No, wait--”

“There you are!” 

Korra turns toward the voice and finds that it belongs to the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen. She walks like someone who has never had someone to tell them ‘no.’ Her charcoal gray and red cropped jacket looks terrifically expensive to Korra’s untrained eye, and is layered over what looks like a silky, high-collared, maroon tunic. The black leggings and boots she wears accentuate long, shapely legs and Korra feels the need to snap her mouth shut to make sure her jaw isn’t on the floor. Her fashion choice, in addition to her jet black hair and pale skin make Korra wonder if the woman is perhaps Fire Nation, until she catches a look at the shocking pale jade eyes. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Toza,” the beautiful girl says, her tone shifting to chiding, “are you giving our girl here some trouble?”

“Asami,” he grumbles, but he sounds a lot less peeved than he had earlier. “This another one of Bolin’s fangirls?”

“Nah,” the girl,  _ Asami _ , says, as she sidles up to Korra and casually slings an arm around her shoulders. “She’s one of  _ mine _ .”

“Oh,” Korra breathes, still trying to wrap her head around this girl helping her, this girl being this unfairly beautiful, and this girl just casually touching Korra, like-- “Um. Yeah. I’m. Big fan. Of… yeah.”

The man, Toza, sighs deeply and then grumbles, “I don’t care who you are, I’ve got work to do. Keep the fangirls out of my gym, Asami. I won’t ask again.”

“Of course,” the girl answers. “Bye, Toza! Come on, hot stuff.”

It takes Korra a full five seconds to realize she’s talking about her. “Oh,” she says again.  _ Spirits, how dumb can I sound?  _ “Thanks.” She lowers her voice. “No, seriously. Thanks.”

“Come on, this way,” she says, her arm slipping from around Korra (much to her chagrin) and motioning down the corridor. “I’ve got the best seats in the house.”

As Asami begins to usher her down the hall, Korra regains her footing and asks, “Are you a pro-bender?”

Asami shakes her head. “Even better,” she says and throws a playful smile over her shoulder as she approaches a rather nondescript door with a small placard next to it, “I’m friends with some.”

_ Red Team Entrance  _ the placard reads.

Asami opens the door and waves a hand through the threshold. “After you,” she says with a little bow.

Korra hopes she isn’t blushing, and tries to come up with something clever to say before the view on the other side of the door renders her just as speechless as Asami had. “Whoa,” slips out of her mouth as she steps through the doorway onto the players’ balcony.

She immediately rushes to the railing to look out over the arena.

This is going to be a good night.

* * *

This girl must be seriously fresh off the boat if the wide-eyed glances she’s giving the arena are anything to go by. In fairness, it  _ is _ an impressive crowd tonight, loud and enthusiastic and absolutely bleeding chaotic, passionate energy. There’s a radio next to the lockers in the corner of the viewing balcony, the excited tones of the announcer bleeding through it and adding to the buzz of noisy excitement.

“This is amazing!” the girl breathes. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

And if Asami is being honest, her open fascination and delight with the spectacle is really, really cute. She’s outstandingly attractive, with her brown hair, blue eyes, and impressively muscled arms. She’s clearly Water Tribe--even excepting her physical features, the blue fabric in her sleeveless tunic, baggy trousers, and stylized arm and wrist cuffs, the furred boots and jacket tied off at her waist, as well as the two water flasks holstered at her hips are clear indicators of her origin.

“It’s definitely something,” Asami replies, and realizes she still doesn’t know the Water Tribe girl’s name. “I’m Asami Sato.”

“I’m Korra,” the girl replies absently, still completely entranced by her surroundings.

Asami can’t help but feel a little miffed at her response. She’s used to people reacting with a lot more… awe when they hear her name.

_ Asami Sato. _

The _ Asami Sato? _

_ Sato Industries Asami Sato? _

Maybe she is a little miffed, but--

The last two people who hadn’t been impressed by her name had become her best friends in the whole world, so maybe it’s a sign.

Speaking of those two lovable idiots, she hears the door open and turns back to see the Fire Ferrets enter, their new jerseys and gear looking sharp and professional.

Hasook lingers at the back of the group, silent and brooding as usual, but Mako and Bolin had been having some sort of animated discussion before they see Asami and her guest already waiting.

“Asami! You brought a friend!” Of course, Bolin takes it all in stride and immediately flits up, takes Korra’s hand and kisses it. Mako rolls his eyes and heads for the lockers. Hasook ignores them. “The name’s Bolin,” he says with all the suavity of a radio drama love interest.

“Oh, no way,” Korra says, unfazed by Bolin’s attempts at flirtation, and that makes Asami grin a bit. “Your friends are the  _ Fire Ferrets _ ?” she asks Asami.

She laughs. “I forget that there are people out there who actually like these bozos,” she says fondly.

Korra turns back to Bolin, who looks a little sad that his flirting had gotten him absolutely nowhere. “I’m Korra, by the way,” she adds with a rueful grin. “So if you’re Bolin, then--” she leans over his shoulder and points at the remaining team members. “Hasook,” she says, pointing at the nonplussed waterbender, then at the very unamused firebender at the lockers. “and Mako?”

Asami tries not to be too crushed that she recognizes all the names of the Fire Ferrets players, but not Asami Sato.

Hearing his name, Mako turns, but instead of being anything resembling his actual, kind, funny self, he grimaces at Korra and looks at Asami. “You gotta stop bringing crazy fangirls in before our matches. I know you think it’s funny--”

(In Asami’s defense, that one time that one girl from Ba Sing Se tried to make off with Bolin’s clothing from his locker in the middle of the match was absolutely  _ hilarious _ and worth every other dud she’s brought in.)

“--but it’s just distracting. Get her out of here.”

Honestly, she hadn’t really been looking for any wild fangirls tonight to tease the boys with. It’s way too close to tournament season for it to be  _ actually _ funny anyway. But Korra is cute, and can Asami really be blamed for wanting to put the moves on her a little? Especially when she’d been able to play the savior for her a few minutes prior.

“Crazy fangirl?” The sharpness of Korra’s voice startles Asami a little. “Who asked you, anyway?”

“Yeah, come on, Mako,” Asami says quickly, not entirely trusting how close the match is to keep Mako’s temper from boiling over. “I told Korra she could stay. Are you going to make me a liar?”  _ And make me look bad? _ she adds silently, but Mako must see it in her gaze because his eyes dart between the two of them for a few seconds before he just sighs.

“Come on, Bolin, Hasook. We’re up.” He stalks past Asami and Korra without saying another word, and Hasook follows.

Korra, thankfully, doesn’t look put out by his prickliness.

“Sorry about that,” Bolin says. “Don’t take it personally. My brother just gets real focused before a match. Okay,” he says, putting on his helmet and affixing the chin strap, “I gotta go. Wish me luck! Not that I’ll need it.” He finishes with a sleazy little wave as he makes his way to the entry platform that makes Korra laugh.

“Good luck! Knock ‘em out!” she calls after them.

Korra turns out to be an absolutely delightful partner for watching matches. She’s so over the top and excited, and it feels almost like Asami is watching her first match all over again through Korra’s eyes. It doesn’t change the fact that Asami winces at their mistakes--Hasook is sloppier than usual, and he and Bolin quickly get knocked back out of zone one. Mako follows soon after, despite his impressive agility.

“Come on,” Asami murmurs, “Work  _ together _ , guys.” The Tiger-dillos are one of the best teams in the league with one-on-one combat styles, so they really have to pull their shit together if they want to win.

“I always thought pro-bending was kind of an individual sport,” Korra says, “Or I guess not  _ individual _ , but…”

Asami nods. “Common misconception. There’s a lot more going on than just hurling elements at each other until someone falls.” She winces as Hasook makes a slow move that results in him getting knocked all the way back to zone three. Moments later, the waterbender unbalances Hasook with a clean sweep, and the earthbender knocks him off.

Asami groans. “See? Teamwork.”

Thankfully, Mako and Bolin manage to stay on the platform until they’re saved by the round bell.

During the inter-round reset, when teams of sweepers with wide brooms clear the earth debris from the field of play and resetters load fresh earth discs, Asami turns to face Korra a little more fully. “So where are you from? I’m guessing not from around here,” Asami says. Internally, she wants to smack herself because that sounded about as obvious as  _ so do you come here often? _

Korra, however, does not seem to notice and answers, “I’m from the Southern Water Tribe. White Teeth clan.”

“What brings you to Republic City?”

Korra replies, “Oh, I came to learn firebending.”

That throws Asami for a loop. “Oh, firebending? Sorry, that’s not what I would’ve guessed.” She supposes that mixed bending families have become far more commonplace, especially in the United Republic, and Republic City in particular, but Asami has been to every nation, and they’re still not the norm by any means. She supposes though, with the last Fire Lady having been from the South Pole, that perhaps that means there are an inordinate amount of firebenders there compared to the North. This, however, does not explain the very obvious waterbending flasks at her sides, but Asami decides to not pry yet. Maybe it’s just a cultural thing she’s not getting. 

“Well,” Asami says, “you came to the right place. There are a lot of really amazing bending academies in Republic City. Are you going to attend one of those?”

Korra shakes her head. “My master was going to come to the South Pole for a while, but he’s on the Council and couldn’t stay to train me with everything going on in the United Republic, so I came with him.”

Wait. Firebending. Master is on the Council. “Fire Prince Kyokani is your firebending master.”

She nods. “Mmhm.”

“Oh, wow,” she breathes. The youngest Fire Prince is notoriously selective about taking on students. Asami’s not even a bender and she knows that. This girl must be good. Hey, maybe that’ll make Mako warm up to her a little faster, knowing that she’s apparently a good enough firebender to be in Prince Kyokani’s tutelage. 

Since Republic City will probably eat poor Korra alive if she’s not ready, Asami warns, “Be prepared to be in the spotlight because I swear that guy’s students end up almost as well known as he is.”

Korra snorts out a laugh. “Believe me, I don’t need his help with that one.”

Asami’s brow quirks. “Oh? Have you been a secret celebrity this whole time and didn’t tell me?”

She shrugs. “I figure the Avatar is at least as well known as the Fire Nation Royal Family.”

Like a Satomobile with a broken axle, Asami’s brain grinds to a painful halt.

“You…”

Korra looks over, and it hits Asami like a bolt of lightning. She remembers hearing about the Avatar coming to the city. There had been a press conference. She announced that she was staying in Republic City and that her name was Korra. Oh  _ ancestors _ , a firebender with waterbending flasks on her, how could Asami have not put the dots together sooner? (She’s going to have to learn how to balance her brainpower with her flirting power because  _ honestly _ .)

“… are the Avatar,” Asami finishes.

Korra nods as though it isn’t a big deal. “Yup.

Her first complete thought is  _ Oh my god I’ve been hitting on the Avatar  _ and her second is  _ I cannot wait for Mako to find out he was an asshole to the Avatar. _

“Oh!” Korra,  _ the Avatar _ , exclaims. “The next round is starting!” She dances back and forth on her toes as though she’s a child at a carnival.

Asami grins; Korra might not mean to be, but she is very endearing.

The bell sounds, and the Ferrets look to be in a little better order, working through their combinations far more effectively than they’d done the last round. They start off getting knocked back to zone two, but make a quick comeback once they start hitting their stride.

Korra leans over to ask a few more questions about pro-bending strategy, and Asami explains as best she can. She’s been a fan of the sport as long as she can remember, but it wasn’t until she became friends with Mako and Bolin that she’d started paying more attention. It helps that they’re both tremendous teachers when they want to be, and have been nothing but enthusiastic whenever she’s asked questions. They’ll afford Korra the same courtesy if she wants it. Well, Bolin will immediately. Mako might take some time to warm up. He’s a bit like a cat in that way.

“That’s so cool,” Korra says. “I’ve--”

They both suddenly cheer when the Tiger-dillos’ earthbender is knocked off the back of the ring.

Korra continues as if the interruption hadn’t occurred, “I’ve never seen this kind of bending before. And I mean, I’m the Avatar. I’ve seen a lot of bending.”

“So the Avatar is impressed, huh?”

“Oh,  _ definitely _ .”

The bell rings, and the Fire Ferrets have managed to cinch the second round. The reset staff begin to buzz around the ring, the teams retreating to talk strategy, and Asami turns her body to face Korra more fully.

“So you’re learning fire now,” Asami says, “Does that mean you’ve mastered all the other elements?”

She nods. “Yeah. Those ones all came pretty easy to me,” she says, and scratches the back of her neck sheepishly. “Fire is the first element that I haven’t been able to just  _ get _ .”

“Wow, and here I was thinking you were perfect,” Asami says, only half joking.

Korra laughs, a light blush on her cheeks and Asami smothers a grin. Maybe she’s not flirting  _ at _ her but  _ with _ her after all. Asami had been starting to worry that Korra was either oblivious, or worse, not interested.

Korra rests her elbows down on the railing, looking down at her hands. Her fingers and palms look callused; they’re the hands of someone used to physical, hard work. She runs her fingertips across her knuckles absently. “Far from it,” replies softly. “I’ve got more to work on than I ever really realized.” There’s an ocean of meaning behind those words, but Asami doesn’t get a chance to ask.

They quiet down as the teams get set for the third round. The bell rings, and a flurry of bending begins.

Hasook sloppily tries to step into a combination, stumbles, and is knocked right into Bolin. A moment later, unsurprisingly, the Tiger-dillos strike, and Hasook and Bolin are both easily knocked off the platform and into the water below.

“Oh no,” Korra laments.

Asami feels the same, but all hope isn’t lost yet. She bumps her shoulder against Korra’s. “Just wait. Watch Mako, he’s going to go to the very back of the platform and tempt them into pouring the last of their stamina into knocking him off.”

Korra gasps as Mako does exactly as Asami had predicted. Mako is an excellent bender and a great athlete, but he really does go above and beyond tonight as he dodges, bobs, and weaves around everything the Tiger-dillos send at him. He carefully stays back in zone three, his heels coming perilously close to the edge of the hexagonal arena, baiting the Tiger-dillos into sending their biggest and strongest attacks his way.

Asami smiles. “They got too cocky.”

“What?” Korra’s eyes are still glued to the pro-bending show Mako is putting on.

Asami answers. “Technically, the Tiger-dillos would have only needed to run down the clock to get the win, but knockouts give them a better seeding in the tournament coming up, and a better ranking in the league. They’re pretty pissed about the Fire Ferrets getting ranked above them this season.”

“Oh,” Korra breathes. “So he’s using that to his advantage.”

“Exactly.”

Korra snorts. “Very waterbender of him. Let your opponents come at you first.”

Asami can’t help but agree.

Mako’s patience pays off when his opponents’ strikes no longer reach him. The Tiger-dillos realize with dawning horror just how  _ bad _ the trap is that Mako has laid for them.

_ “And Mako is on the offensive!” _ cries the radio announcer, but that doesn’t encompass the sheer impressiveness of what is happening in the ring. The first two Tiger-dillos go down fast. The last puts up a fight, he and Mako trading blows and sending a massive cloud of dust up over the arena, so much so that Asami can barely see anything.

And then--

Mako emerges from the cloud with one last leap and a downward fist of fire, and the last Tiger-dillo is knocked off the platform.

The stadium absolutely  _ erupts _ , Korra and Asami right along with them. The hat trick Mako just pulled off is exceedingly rare, only accomplished by a handful of pro-benders since the sport’s inception, and Asami can’t remember a single one that accomplished it when it was three-to-one against in the final round. Mako’s going to go in a pro-bending history book somewhere, and Asami’s heart feels like it’s going to burst with how proud she is.

It doesn’t take too long for the players to return to the balcony, and a shouting Bolin startles both Korra and Asami with an emphatic “Woohoo!” 

Asami throws her arms around him, not caring about the sweat or grime accumulated over the course of the match. “You guys did it!” she congratulates, choosing not to take away from his good mood by pointing out just how much Mako saved their asses out there.

Bolin wraps her up in a hug and lifts her feet off the ground. She wheezes a laugh despite the tight grip he has on her.

“One more win and we’re in the championship tournament!” He crows proudly before placing Asami carefully back on her feet. He removes his helmet, turns to Korra, and gives her a winning grin. “So, what’d you think, Korra? Bolin’s got some moves, huh?”

“What did I think?” Korra repeats excitedly, grasping the front of Bolin’s jersey with both hands. “What did I think?!” She proceeds to veritably  _ hurl _ Bolin across the space. “That was amazing!”

Asami can’t contain her laughter, at least until Mako’s angry voice cuts through the joyful atmosphere that had descended over the viewing deck. “You did more harm than good out there!”

“We won, didn’t we?” Hasook spits back.

They’ve squared off against each other, and it looks like Mako is just barely holding himself back from punching the waterbender square in the face. Asami briefly considers stepping between them, but she doesn’t like the look of her odds of defusing anything.

“Barely,” Mako hisses, “and no thanks to  _ you _ .” A vein pulses in his forehead.

“Get off my case, Mako,” Hasook says with a ferocious finality and spins away. With a frustrated growl, he throws his helmet down, slams open the entry door, and leaves the balcony without further ado.

Asami winces. She’d known things were bad with Hasook but if he and Mako have devolved to full-on arguments after matches, then things are bad.

“Useless,” Mako mumbles, glaring daggers at the doorway. The door is still swinging from Hasook’s emphatic exit.

“You guys were incredible out there!” Korra exclaims, either trying to diffuse the awkward tension leftover from Hasook or displaying an incredible inability to read the room. She turns to Mako, “Especially you, Mr. Hat Trick.” 

Mako looks like he’s about to say something asshole-esque again, but Asami manages to catch his eye from behind Korra’s back and makes a slicing motion over her throat. As much as she loves watching him make a fool of himself sometimes, she should probably be a better friend and try to at least head him off from doing any more damage.

“Thanks,” he grumbles, barely audible, and makes his way back over to the lockers without saying anything further. Asami sighs. Not the worst he could’ve done, she supposes.

Bolin has recovered from being bodily thrown across the balcony and is looking at Korra with the absolute definition of heart eyes. Well, Asami supposes with a chuckle, it’s not the worst thing in the world to be attracted to a girl who can demonstrably kick your ass.

Korra continues, enthusiasm not dampened in the slightest, “I’ve been immersed in bending my whole life, but I never learned to move like that. It’s like there’s a whole new style here. Think you could show me a few tricks?”

“Absolutely,” Bolin says, clearly enthused.

“Come on, Bolin,” Mako mutters from his corner. “Now?”

“Just ignore him,” Bolin and Asami say at the same time.

“Yeah,” Bolin continues, “I could show you the basics. I’m just not sure how my earthbending would translate to your waterbending, but we’ll figure it out.”

“Won’t be a problem,” Korra says with a nonchalant smirk. “I’m actually an earthbender.”

Bolin’s eyes widen for a half a second, quickly darting over Korra’s apparel just like Asami had done. “I’m sorry. No, no,” he says quickly, “I didn’t mean to… assume. ‘Cause I--you know. I was figuring--with your Water Tribe getup and the waterbending flasks that you are a Water Tribe, waterbending… gal.”

Asami has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as Korra’s smirk grows more mischievous and cocky. She crosses her arms over her chest and cocks a hip.

“Nope, you’re right,” Korra replies. “I’m a waterbender…  _ and _ an airbender.”

“Mm,” Bolin hums, his hand coming up to stroke his chin, “Mmhm. I’m very confused right now.”

Surprisingly, it’s Mako who puts it together first.

“You’re the Avatar, and I’m an idiot,” he says, eyes closed and face downcast with his realization.

“Both are true,” Korra says, but not unkindly.

“No…” Bolin’s face morphs from disbelief to hero worship in the span of a second, “...  _ way _ .” He turns to Asami. “Did you know about this? Why didn’t you warn us?!”

Asami finally releases the laugh that had been building. “In my defense, I only found out, like, twenty minutes ago?”

Stage-whispering to a stricken Mako, Bolin says, “ _ The! Avatar! _ ”

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Mako blurts, inelegant but at least sincere.

Korra takes it in stride. “I understand. I was just some random stranger intruding on your space.” Her lips twist wickedly. “As long as it doesn’t happen again.”

He nods and quietly agrees, “Yeah. Of course.”

* * *

Korra picks up pro-bending-style earthbending disturbingly quickly. It’d taken Bolin days to get the combo down correctly that she’d  _ literally _ mastered after one try. He tries to not beat himself up about it--she is the Avatar after all. She already has a lot of experience with the different bending styles, more than Bolin has ever had. She’s also probably had some of the best earthbenders in the world instruct her.

His parents had never really bothered to find him a teacher to develop his earthbending. In a way, it was a benefit that he’d never had to truly unlearn the traditional earthbending styles to get good at the faster-paced style required to be a pro-earthbender; pro-pending commentators often couldn’t shut up about how much his bending style looked like firebending. Though, watching Korra pack incredible power into each move, he wonders if he shouldn’t try a little harder to learn some of the old ways.

Agni, if he’d thought she was attractive before, watching her arms throw swift crosses and send earth discs flying into the net with as much power as he can muster on a good day makes him want to drop down on a knee and propose. But he’s seen the looks Asami has cast Korra’s way the whole night. Asami is many things, but subtle is usually not one of them. He can squash his crush for her sake--besides, being friends with Korra doesn’t sound like a terrible second-best option.

“Not bad,” Mako offers from where he leans against the side of the stairs.

Korra scoffs softly. “Jeez, what’s it take to impress this guy?”

“What?” Mako protests, “I said not bad!”

Asami chuckles from where she sits behind Mako on the staircase. “Imagine saying to the Avatar that she’s a crazy fangirl and then saying that her bending is ‘not bad.’”

They all laugh, and Mako bristles. “I apologized,” he defends thinly. He shakes his head. “Whatever. It’s late, and I’m beat.” He pushes off the stairs to stand on his own. “You kids have fun. It was nice to meet you, Avatar Korra,” he manages to say with a tight politeness. “Night, Asami.” As he starts walking away, he raises a hand in farewell. “See you upstairs, bro.”

Asami watches him go, a light of concern in her eyes. “I’ll be back. I’m gonna go talk to him,” she says, hopping from her perch and catching up to Mako. Bolin can’t hear their conversation as they ascend the stepladder to the attic.

“Upstairs?” Korra asks, bringing his attention back to her. “You guys live here?”

“Yep,” Bolin confirms, “in the attic. It’s nothing fancy, but we have some great views.”

A beat passes before Korra asks in an uncertain tone, “Those two aren’t… uh, together are they?”

Bolin’s brow furrows in confusion. “What? Oh, Asami and Mako?” He can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him. “Definitely not. I think they’d kill each other within a month. Nah, she’s just our best friend.”

Korra lets out a quiet breath at that, but Bolin doesn’t quite know her well enough to say if it’s relief on her face. Bolin hopes Asami’s feelings are returned, but it seems a little too soon to ask about any of that.

Instead, he squares his shoulders and refocuses. “So, back to bending; why don’t you throw that combo one more time?”

* * *

The sound of Bolin and the Avatar practicing fade as Mako climbs the ladder towards their room. Exhaustion drags at his limbs and his eyes, and nothing sounds better than collapsing in his bed and sleeping for the next week.

“Hey, Hat Trick.”

Mako turns, looking down at where Asami stands at the base of the stepladder.

She crosses her arms over her chest and cocks a hip. “Are you doing okay?” she asks.

“What? Yeah. I’m fine. Just tired.” He looks back up and continues to climb.

He feels the ladder tremble a little as Asami climbs up behind him. Mako sighs. Hopefully her lecture about being rude doesn’t last too long. He doesn’t feel like hearing anyone else yell at him today.

He emerges into their apartment and turns back just long enough to offer Asami a hand.

“Thanks,” she murmurs once she’s standing in their main room.

The brightness of the city lights flood the room with soft, yellow light--dimmer than daylight, but still bright enough to read by, and more than bright enough for Mako to see the concern etched on Asami’s face. She wanders over to their scrubby couch and sits down, not as relaxed or casual as she usually is.

“Congrats on that last play,” she offers. “I know that was a huge achievement for you.”

“Oh,” he says softly in surprise. Maybe not a lecture after all. He tucks his hands in his pockets and leans back against a support beam. “Yeah. It’s pretty cool I suppose.”

“You suppose?” Asami quirks a brow at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just tired,” he replies again with a small shake of his head.

Asami hums. “I don’t think so.” She leans forward, elbows on knees. “Seriously, tell me. I’m worried about you. This isn’t just the Ferrets having a really good rookie season, this is history-making. People are going to talk about that play for years to come. It’s literally everything you dreamed of when you started pro-bending, so I feel like you should be more  _ excited _ .”

Mako’s thoughts swirl around his head like leaves in a stream. Asami isn’t wrong; when he and Bolin talked about becoming pro-benders, they’d dreamed of being the best. Of being talked about by radio hosts. Of being  _ seen _ .

(They’d experienced enough invisibility when they’d been homeless.)

He’d always thought that’d be enough.

Fourteen year old Mako would be smacking his eighteen year old self upside the head for not fully celebrating and appreciating his achievement. Young Mako would’ve wanted to turn on the radio and listen to the post-game commentators, devouring each word they might’ve had to say about him. He would’ve lain awake, replaying that last knockout over and over again in his head, too excited to go to sleep after something like that.

But right now? He doesn’t want any of it. He just wants to go to sleep and be dead to the world for a few hours.

“It’s just…” Mako swallows. “It doesn’t feel like…” He makes a frustrated sound. “We’re getting everything we wanted. We’re one of the best teams in the league. We’re about to get into the  _ championship tournament _ .” The first place prize could be enough to sustain them for  _ years _ . And yet--

Asami’s soft ‘oh’ makes Mako look over at her, and she completes his thought for him, “It’s not enough, though, right?”

Surprise must be written on his face because Asami smiles at him, soft and understanding.

“I felt the same way when I was in school,” she says. “Ancestors, that was before I even met you guys, wasn’t it?” She laughs softly. “Always thought I’d be a doctor, but as soon as I started my apprenticeship, it just didn’t make me as happy as I thought it would.”

“I didn’t know that about you,” Mako murmurs. A doctor? It seems… quite at odds with the Asami he knows now.

She shrugs. “I guess I’m happy with what I’m doing now, and I just haven’t looked back.”

Faint laughter echoes from the gym, and Mako notices the way Asami’s eyes dart past him. He nods his head towards the door. “Go back and join them. I know you want to.”

“I will, but Mako, this is… this is kind of big. If you’re not happy with pro-bending, then--”

“Don’t,” he asks, faint and a little desperate. “I don’t know if I’m ready to hear it out loud yet.”

But he’s heard it in his head plenty of times.

_ I’m not happy pro-bending, and I think I want to quit. _

Agni, Bolin is going to be so… Mako doesn’t even know. Another facet of this problem of his that he’s going to have to sort through on his own time.

More laughter comes from below.

He shakes his head. “Just head back down, alright? I’m going to bed.” He smirks. “And I won’t ask you to hang out with me when you clearly want to get with the Avatar.”

To Mako’s great delight, Asami’s ears go red, and she hides her face in her hands as she says, “I didn’t really know she was the Avatar when I started flirting with her!”

Mako snorts. “Didn’t really stop you from flirting with her once you found out though, huh?”

She raises her head from her hands. “Uh, you saw her, right?”

“I did,” he answers. “She just doesn’t really seem like my type.”

Asami chortles. “Right, because Mako only likes the  _ delicate _ ladies.”

He groans, “Agni’s sake.”

Asami stands from the couch and makes her way towards the ladder leading back to the gym. “Goodnight,” he mutters as she passes, and turns to head for his bed.

He jumps when Asami’s arms suddenly wrap around him from behind, linking her hands in a tight and unyielding embrace. “You know I’ve got your back no matter what, right?” she whispers.

Some of the tension lingering in his shoulders from the day eases. He covers her hands with one of his. “Yeah,” he whispers back. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on tumblr if you feel so inclined @the-irish-mayhem
> 
> If anyone is worried, no, we're not going to dabble in love triangle stuff in this fic.


End file.
